• '■':v-r/y/ l E*R' H A NfS ON' IIHHHHHHHMMIiHNHiHHHHHBHMBHNHMHMRHMBHNi0Miifi Em 1&M \Vto- i ■ S^ 2 oil/- / e» i>; '. <■ < < Our Woman workers. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES Women Eminent in the Universalist Church for Literary, Philanthropic and Christian Work. BY AIRS. E. R. HANSON. SK( IOND r.DITKJX CHICAGO : The Stak and Covenant Office. I SSI'. COPYRIGHTED, 1881. E. R. HANSON. GEO. DANIELS. PHINTER, 70 ANO 01 RANDOLPH ST., CHICAQO. PREFACE. Some two years since, when traveling on an Iowa railroad, I fell into a con- versation with a lady ot a partial faith, when, with no little Incredulity Bhe in- quired, "What women of your church have distinguished themselves by a manifesta- tion of Christian, or philanthropic zeal?" Casting about for an answer to her ques- tion. I was astonished as the long and brilliant procession moved across the field of my mind's vision, and the longer I dwelt on them the greater my astonishment became, and at length I said, "Never did a church include a larger proportion of noble women." Then followed the thought, H<>\v rapidly their names are growing dim? How soon it will be difficult, if not impossible, to rescue the data of many of their lives from oblivion. Even in the next generation much that is now obtainable will have gone beyond recovery. Would that some pen might be employed in the delightful task of recording their life-histories, and giving to others who love the church they loved, at least a brief compendium of their lives. With this thought came the im- pulse to begin the pleasing work, ami as my inquiries have extended the materials have increased, until they became to me what I am sure they will prove to be even to those most familiar with the history of our church, a revelation, causing mingled surprise and delight. In preparing this book I have greatly needed courage for the delicate task of writing the full truth of the loving and tender work of those who are living; to write it in such a way as not to fall below the credit due them, and in so doing not to briiiK blushes upon their kindly Faces by seeming flattery. Indeed. I have tried to imagine them all as dead, that I might speak the truth with a clear con- science, and I do not believe I have in any one instance overstated the estimate of those win' knew her. I say this because I have found some who were uncon- scious that they had done aught deserving of mention. My earnest wish has been not only to refresh the memories ,,f justice-loving people, and preserve a record of the Christian devotedness ami mental abilities >>f our women, but to do. as nearly as possible, exact justice to their relative worth. I had intended to print my sketches chronologically, but found it impossible to keep up with the printers, and prepare the articles in chronological succession, and therefore the plan was soon abandoned. It was also my purpose to give to each subject a space proportionate to her relative merits, but the materials in some cases were easy and in others diffi- cult to procure. This will explain any apparent disproportion between the sketches. The reader should bear in mind that the most of the names here presented are representative. Could all those faithful and consecrated women who deserve places 1 9C95S0 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. in such a book as this be described, a library and not a volume should contain the splendid record. A delightful experience has been mine in my correspondence. More than two thousand letters have been written, to all of which came courteous answers, and but two refusals to co-operate with me have been received, one, with courteous regrets, whose name I have not chronicled, and one, an unimportant one, of whom I was able to collect all the essential facts. Men and women in and out of our church, persons high in office, and social standing, all have kindly responded. Even one of the coroneted heads of Europe promptly furthered my request, as will be seen in the sketch of Clara Barton. I desire to record the fact that men, even those who are supposed to have little sympathy with what is sometimes called the "woman movement," have exhibited the greatest 1 willingness to aid in recording the splendid work of our "Elect Ladies," and have afforded me most welcome as- sistance. I have met none of that hostility to the work of women which is some- times attributed to men. In some cases it has required months to And some "missing link," a fact or incident desirable to record correctly. But sooner or later I have obtained most of the data sought, so that I feel confident in saying that the accounts given will in all cases be found trustworthy, and as nearly complete as the most persistent effort could make them. This book is. not only designed to refresh the memories of our older people, but to teach our children the grandeur of those women who in the first century of our church have given freely from heart and mind in aid of the "faith once de- livered to the saints." With the conviction that I have done my best, I present my offering to the denomination in whose communion my life has been spent, with the hope that it will find a place in the hearts and by the fire-side altars of our people, and that they will take an honorable pride in these, the consecrated and beautiful lives of those who have b >en the products and the exponents of the grandest religious faith ever yet cherished in the heart of man or woman. Some among the writers quoted are not, though some are, of the gifted few whose words arrest the attention of a generation, but they belong to those who have had and improved the great opportunity To write one earnest word or line, Which, seeking not tin; praise of art, Shall make a clearer faith and manhood shine In the untutored heart. She who does this, in verse or prose, May be forgotten in her day, Bui surely shall be crowned at last, with those Who live and speak for aye. There are larger, older, richer communions than our own, that can point to more richly endowed Institutions, ami greater material trophies than our own pos- our Church considers such names as those thai arc r rded in these pair's -he may well look with delighl at the bright array, and exclaim with Cor- nelia, the mother of the Gracchi, "These ake jiy jewels 1" INTRODUCTION. "When Christianity came from the hand of its author, it was the revelation of a Father whose love is absolutely undiminishable for each ami all hi- children; a love so re-enforced by infinite wisdom ami power, that it will finally place tin- entire family of man in an unbroken ami eternal home. Scarcely, however, had this sub- lime revelation dawned in brightness on the world, when it began t<> enter an eclipse. Converts from Paganism accepted Christ, but most inadequately compre- hended him. ami brought in their gross ami cruel conceptions of God ami religion, until the purity ami beauty of the divinest of all revelations were obscured and concealed by heathen errors. The culmination of this baleful influence of darkness and deformity was pro- duced by one of the most powerful of tie' Christian Fathers, who was also one of the most unhuman of men,— Augustine,— a man of gigantic intellect and influence, which were exei'ted in behalf of darkness and error. In his "Latin Christianity" Milman says that Augustine "compelled" thai total change of Christian thought and feeling which was to influence the Christianity of the remotest ages. Having, by his own confessions, spent his youth in the brothels of Carthage, he devoted his vast abilities, after his conversion, to the task of reconciling Christianity ami Pagan- ism. He discarded the woman he should have married, contrary to the earnest wish of Moni.-a, his mother, because he thought a celibate life essential to holiness. His only son was born without legal father or mother, ami his whole life was in direct hostility to that sacred relation, the paternal, on which Christianity is built, and on which all true society rests. Such a man knew nothing and could leach nothing of tl ardinal idea of Christ's religion, lie buried the Father out of sight beneath the Lawgiver and Executioner. He transferred to the God "f Christianity the savage characteristics of barbarous tyrants. He transfused Christianity with th«' blood of heathen Rome, until its penal code, its false system of obligation ami itract, ami the entire spiril and genius of Pagan error were made to overslaugh the teachings of Christ. He invented Calvinism before Calvin, and hi.- statement of Christianity was literally man-made; for the head, the heart, the hand of woman nevei assisted the fierce masculine artificer in the construction of the harsh, cruel, and perverted form in which, fur fifteen centuries, the religi f Jesus was VI INTRODUCTION. destined to be travestied to the world. It ignored those relations that are most sacred to woman, and crushed her divinest aspirations and affections, and lay like a nightmare on the race. Every cradle was regarded as a nest in which a moral viper was cherished. Every human mother propagated a race of monsters. Only the omniscient God can tell how woman was tortured and crucified duriag the long ages of that reign of terror. If man held the prevailing religion endurable by rea- son of its masculine traits that gratified the intellect, millions of women found it unspeakably repulsive, as it crushed and lacerated their divinely-human affections. Who can doubt that the monstrous deformity that so long usurped the .place of a genuine Christianity would have been an unborn horror had the wife and mother of Augustine co-operated with him in the interpretation of the teachings of Jesus,— had he recognized the sacred relations of husband, and son, and father ? No mother, looking on the face of her babe, ever invented or tolerated the idea of total depravity; no woman, thinking of her son or daughter, however old, —for to the mother the son or daughter always remains a child,— ever conceived the possibility of endless torture for that child. Only the celibate monk in gloomy cell, divorced from the sweet relations of domestic life, ignorant of that best type of heaven, a happy earthly home, could have invented the mediaeval Christianity. Calvinism, Arminianism, Partialism in any form, is in the worst sense of the words a masculine faith, destitute of all feminine grace, and it was not until the potent voice of woman was heard in its interpretation that a perverted Christianity began to slough it- asperities. It was not until the brain of man and the heart of woman, his intellecl an. I her affections, were combined in the study of Christianity, that its character was understood, and our blessed faith appeared. The» long eclipse began to disappear with the dawn of the Reformation, and as tin- principles of Christianity asserted themselves, woman advanced more con- spicuously to advocate them, no longer the nun. or the sister of charity, with Bhackled mind and heart oppressed. She began to think and speak ami act untram- meled, under the inspiration of the word of life, and as that word was spoken in it- fullness, her voir,' was heard as never before, for not until the accents of the divine facl or Fatherhood penetrated her heart, unrefracted and unperverted, did she reply with the besl utterances of he,- own spirit; and it was not until that fact began to be admitted thai she took her place at the side of man, his co-partner in the religious work of the world. When the distinguishing truths of the TJniversalist Church were first pro- claimed in modem time- aboul a century ago woman, so long repressed— was almost .1 Btranger In our religious gatherings. Men came at once in throngs, but women were "like angels' visits, few and far between." Bui as tin' glad tidings. Bpread apace it was discovered that the new-born faith was more essential to the INTRODUCTION. Vll highest needs of woman than to those of man. Neither had ever been satisfied with the old; both found all that could be desired in the new statements of God's disposition and man's di'stiny. The writer of these lines can remember wheu in an assembly of Universalis! worshipers only lien- and there a woman could I"- seen in the crowd oi level-headed men, but she was usually one who, "through the much tribulation' of trial and bereavement, had entered the kingdom; but ere long the number increased, until now the excess of women among our workers is almost as greal as was then the excess of men. ft should be said, however, that outside of our organizations, among the great "cloud of witnesses" who have testified to this truth in the supreme court of genius, woman's voice lias often been heard in literature, and her spirit has been active in philanthropy, under the inspiration of this faith. From the nature of the case the millions who, in humble and unregarded ways have lived and labored in its light, and died and made no sign, are unknown, and must forever be unrecorded in our annals, while only the few have left "foot-prints in the sands of Time."* In Europe such women as Joanna Baillie, Anna Letitia Barbauld, Mary M. Sherwood. Sarah Flower Adams. Alison K. Cockburn, Lady Byron, Frederika Bremer, Harriet Mart ineau, Elisabeth Frye. Mary Carpenter, Charlote Bronte, Elisabeth Bar- rett Browning. Florence Nightingale, Frances Power Cobbe, Helen M. Williams, Adelaide Procter. Mary Howitt, Elisabeth Arundel Charles. Jean fngelow, Dinah Muloch Craik, Elisabeth C Glephaue; and in America, besides those named in the body of this work. Lydia Maria Child. Margaret Fuller, Dorothea Dix, Harriet Beecher Stowe, A. D. T. 'Whitney, F. If. J. Cieaveland, Eliza Seudder, Lucj Lareom, and a host of others, not any of them professedly belonging to our communion. have left definite declarations of our faith, or have breathed its beneficent spirit in their recorded words. Indeed, with the rarest exceptions, the great and increasing multitude of women who have become eminent in philanthropy and literature. have exercised a potent influence in melting the icy rigors of ancient error, and have helped to hasten the coming of the present era of liberal thought. Some of them would not have confessed, perhaps, even to themselves, that they consciously cherished the faith which their lives really promoted. "They builded better than they knew." But most of those mentioned above have, in definite language, explic- itly uttered the universal faith, and all those named, and multitudes of others have helped to swell the volume of influence that woman has given to restore Christian- ity to its original purity. •The render will find the expression of the thought of universal salvation traced through literature, in n volume by the author of this Introduction, entitled: "A Cloud ol Witni containing selections from the writings of poets and other literary and celebrated persons, expressive of the universal triumph oi good over evil. Till INTRODUCTION. It was a happy thought, which this volume has been prepared to exeeuta, to perpetuate the memories of the best known and recognized of the women who, during the first century of the existence of the Universalist Church, have identified themselves with its fate, or who had been instrumental in promoting its growth. They well represent the great multitude of devoted ones who, though less known, were equally consecrated and faithful, and possibly no less influential in establish- ing that church which, alone among Christian sects, advocates the blessed hope expressed by one of the sisters Bronte: And oh, there lives within my heart, A hope long nursed by me ; And should its cheering ray depart, How dark my soul would be ! That as in Adam all have died In Christ shall all men live; And ever round his throne abide, Eternal praise to rive. That even the wicked shall at last Be fitted for the skies ; And when their dreadful doom is past, To life and light arise. 1 ask not bow remote the day, Nor what the sinner's woe, Before their dross is purged away; Enough for me to know That when the cup of wrath is drained, The metal purified, They'll cling to what they once disdained, And live by hi in that died. The writer of these sketches has produced an array of names that would shed glory on any church, or any cause, anil their words and characters can not be read and studied without causing an increase of love in the hearts of their sis- ters and all others of like precious faith, for their Alma Mater, and new zeal and devotion in behalf <>f a church which can point to such a shining galaxy of noblo women, the produd and exponents of its benign and gracious spirit. Chicago, Si'lJlumber, 1881. J. W. HANSON. Our Woman Workers. N the inception of this book the first thought that came to my mind was to give word-pictures of those women who helped to lay the foundations of our church, and who dared, in the old days of persecution, declare to the great, hungering world the blessed truths that had set them free. I felt that the hearts of all Universalists who could be made acquainted with the heroism that had helped those women to endure oblocpiy and despise the shame put upon them, would be drawn very near to them, and would beat warmly in sympathy with them. I gave my thought to a friend, and his reply was: *' Yes! it took men and women, in every sense of the word, to live ami dis- course our faith with Christian hearing before the ignorance of the days of the infancy of our church." My immediate mental response was, — " It takes men and women to-day to tell the beauties of our faith, and Christ's tender sympathy, and God's all-conquering and boundless love, in a manner to touch the hearts of those who believe in a partial salvation; and we have them, and their love, philanthropy and hard work must lie chronicled with those who first rose in its defense." And so I shall give to my readers sketches of our earlier ami later workers, who not only deserve but possess our love and sympathy. It will not lie out of place, even in a book which is to treat exclusively of women, to allude to the remarkable circumstances accompanying the founding of the faith in America, that these grand women so nobly defended, and so faithfully lived: for it is one of the strangest stories in all the annals of religious history. As it is related by Rev. John Murray, in his wonderful autobiography, it possesses an irresistible charm, and tills the 2 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. mind of the candid with the conviction that the great and tender-hearted modem apostle of " the faith once delivered to the saints " was a Providen- tial man — an agent of the good Father, to bear to his children the glad tid- ings which had so long been concealed by the darkness of superstition. His flight from England to bury his sorrows in the American wilderness, and to escape the burthen which he felt to convey to the world the new and unpopular truth revealed to him; the anchoring of his ship by stress of weather on the wilderness coast of New Jersey; his interview with the sim- ple-hearted Thomas Potter, who had built a church in which should be preached the doctrine of universal salvation, and his recognition of Murray, of whom he had never heard, as the man God had sent to preach the unsearch- able riches; the question, — "Will you, sir, speak to me and to my neighbors of the things which belong to our peace?" Mr. Murray's refusal, on the ground that he must sail as soon as the wind changed, and the assurance of Mr. Potter that the wind would not change until he had spoken the great message that God had surely sent him to deliver ; and the fact that the wind did not change until Mr. Murray, September 30, 1770, in this sea-coast chapel, did preach to these anxiously waiting souls, in his own words, "a redemption free as the light of heaven," — all this reads like a strange dream. And Mr. Murray was one of the first to herald in this broad America what he truly calls "these glad, these vast yet obnoxious tidings," that the women of long ago, wbo now rest in peace at the end of life's journey, fearlessly defended, and labored to up-build. Kemoving to Gloucester, Mass., in 1774, Mr. Murray at once found a generous following, and among his stanch supporters was Winthrop Sargent, a daughter of whom became the devoted wife of the great apostle of a world's salvation. It is a matter of history that there were several families in Gloucester, Mass., that had accepted Umversalian views before John Murray's advent. Rev. Richard Eddy, in the"Universalist Quarterly"for April, 1881, declares that they were brought from England, derived from Relley. Undoubtedly there were other nurseries of the good seed in other portions of the land, for Murray found much fallow ground as he toiled. Perhaps there wen; many women consecrated to the great truth so soon to appear in all parts of the land, whose names have perished, but who, if known, would adorn the annals JUDITH HURRAY. 3 of our faith. But it seeins especially fitting tlr.it the wife of the first great modern organizer of this truth, who \v,is one of the most accomplished of the "Women of our Church," should he the first to he described in the pages of this hook. JUDITH MURRAY. Judith Sargent was the widow of John Stephens before she became the second wife of Rev. John Murray, to whom she was married in Salem, Mass., in October, 1788. Mr. Eddy says: "She was born at Gloucester, Mass., May 5, 1751, and was the oldest of eight children of Winthrop and Judith Sargent. Her father descended from William Sargent 2nd, who settled in Gloucester in l(37'■ infinite. He kindly condescends to call us his children, and permits us to address hi in by 'lie endearing appellation of Father. Is it possible that so good, so kind and loving a Father can punish his tender and beloved offspring with the mosl exquisite misery, to the endless ages of eternity, for their disobedience to him, and even for the most trivial faults'.'' Can it be supposed that so wise and powerful a Being is under the necessity of punishing with endless misery, in LUCY BARNES. 13 order to secure th<- peace and honor of his government? If the infinite goodness of our Heavenly Father is sufficient to inspire him with a wish to make all his children perfectly and eternally holy and happy, is not his infinite wisdom sufficient to form a plan for the completion of his wishes? and his infinite power sufficient to execute that divine purpose, that he might not be eternally disappointed and frustrated in so benevolent a wish? I suppose you are now ready to tell me it is time to drop this subject, and to speak of the justice, severity and vengeance of our Heavenly Father, and to consider his righl and ids power to punish us as he pleases. But I do not dispute his power nor his right to punish the disobedient with endless misery, but it is his will or inclination to do it which I dispute. Neither do I think, there i> a single passage of Scripture which represents a state of endless woe, though I know the chastisements of the Almighty are very seven — "vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord"— and the curses and judgments threatened against the disobedient are great indeed; therefore it behooves us all to be good and obedient children, lest they fall upon us. For I do not think it is inconsistent with the divine love of our Universal Parent to chastise the transgressors of his law suf- ficiently to subdue their hardened hearts and stubborn will, and to subject them to his holy government. But can justice require more? Certainly not. But, on tin' contrary, whatever punishment is inflicted, after they are completely humbled and subdued, in my estimation may justly be termed cruelty and revenge. And shall we presume to impute those hateful passions to the Almighty which he him- self has taught us to despise in each other, and which we absolutely abhor even in a savage, who is not contented merely with the death of his enemy, but puts him to the most cruel death which malice and revenge can possibly invent, roasting him alive in such a moderate manner as to prolong his life and misery to the utmost extent of his power? But what is that when compared with endless misery? You are a mother, and doubtless possessed of as tender feelings as ever warmed the heart of a parent, and were I to say that you could with pleasure behold your children punished with such exquisite misery, even for an age, you would think that I was either beside myself or entertained a most unjust opinion of you. But if you could not endure the sight but for one age. what reason have you to sup- pose that the tenderest, most loving and best of Fathers could endure the shocking scene to the endless a^'es of eternity? But perhaps you will say that those who are to suffer thus are not the offspring of God, but the children of the devil. I know the wicked on account of their disobedience are called the children of the wicked one; hut if they are so in reality, we can not reasonably expect they will !»' punished so severely for being too obedient to their father. Satan, as children are in duty bound to honor and obey their parents, even by a command from the -real Eternal himself. Tt is said that sinners justly merit endless pun- ishment, because they sin against an infinite law. etc. Hut surely the Almighty knew, before he created them, that they would sin against him, and likewise what punishment they would merit. Then was ii an act of love, justice or wisdom in him to force into an existence millions of human beings, whom he absolutely knew would transgress his law, and thereby incur his displeasure, and n --hate him to make them eternally miserable? Had he provided a thousand Saviors for them, and given them a thousand times better chance to escape thai dreadful place of misery, what would it avail them? For is it possible for them to avoid what the all-wise God absolutely knows will happen to them? Now. if a Being of 14 OUB WOMAN WORKERS. infinite love, justice and tender mercy, and a kind, benevolent Father could do such a thing, is it possible for us to conceive what a being of infinite hatred and revenge would do? It is believed by many that the parable of the rich man and Lazarus is a real description of heaven and hell, and that it evidently sets forth the misery of those who are damned, roasting in flames of fire, and begging for water, even for one drop to mitigate their sufferings, while those in heaven must incessantly behold their distress, and hear their groans and cries and dreadful lamentations to all eternity without having the power to relieve them. If that is really the case, what person is there who possesses any real love for his fellow creatures, who would not much rather be annihilated, and be as though he never had been, than go to such a heaven! What would avail to rue the joys of heaven, And all the splendor of the golden coast, If I must know millions of human souls In misery groan, and are forever lost ? But I can not believe that such a place of misery ever did exist, or ever will. until there is a change wrought in the Almighty himself, and we behold the great wheel of nature rolling backward. We are told that when we go to heaven we shall there behold the justice of God so plainly in the eternal condemnation of the ungodly that we shall finally rejoice in their misery; if so, why are not the saints here on earth now rejoicing in it, who profess to be born of the spirit of the ever-living and true God, and to know their Master's will and to obey it? and who fancy they have met with all the change they ever shall see, as they suppose no one will ever be changed after death; but surely they must meet with a much greater change than they ever yet have experienced, to endure, much more to behold with pleasure, such a shocking scene to all eternity. Various indeed are all the arguments which might be produced from Scripture, as well as reason, to prove the final restitution of all mankind to their former state of purity and holiness, since the Lord hath spoken of it by the mouth of all his holy prophets since the world began. I will quote verbatim from the "Christian Intelligencer," of 1825, sent me by S. H. Colesworthy, of Portland, Maine, publisher of her father's memoir: "Miss Barnes from infancy had in warm weather been sorely afflicted with asthma, but for several years before her death the complaint became more severe and alarming. Though the distress and pressure at the lungs were frequently so great that she seemed to be in the agonies of death, the first language she uttered would be intended to console and comfort her parents. Her individual hope in Christ, and her faith in the universal salvation, remained firm and unwavering to the last, and even in the dread strag- gles of expiring nature the smile of heavenly serenity was visible on her countenance, evincing a willingness to sleep in death, that she might rest in God." LUCY BAltNES. 15 Never did a respectful and loving child enter upon a journey to visit her absent parents with more alacrity than Lucy Barnes resigned herself into the hands of a merciful God, to be transported to "that country from whose bourne no traveler returns." In writing to an old lady who had recently been brought into the light of the glorious truth, she says : t 1 know the punishments of the Almighty for sin and wickedness are very severe; but although our heavenly Father visits our transgressions with a rod and our iniquities with stripes, yet St. Paul tells us "He doth not (as our earthly parents have done) chasten us after his own pleasure, but for our profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness." With regard to rny health, it is very low indeed. I am not able to walk out of my room, nor to sit up but a few moments at a time, so that I have been many days in writing these lines; but although they are penned by a feeble hand, yet, through the grace of God, they proceed from a heart strong in faith, though on the verge of eternity. I will give a short quotation from the last written exhortation of Miss Barnes, finished only the day before she died : Let us, therefore, be humble, and endeavor to pursue the paths of peace, and to walk in the straight and narrow way. And whenever we discover any going on in vice and wickedness, and walking in the broad road in search of happiness, let us pity their weakness and folly, and mistaken ideas of bliss, and endeavor, if possible, to restore them in the spirit of meekness, "considering ourselves lest we also be tempted." Fur if we had their temptations, we might perhaps do equally as bad or even worse than they. May every blessing attend you which can con- tribute in the least both to your temporal and spiritual welfare. May the God of peace be with you always; may you be patient in tribulation, remembering that whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and thai these afflictions which are sent for our profit are but short, but the joys which will soon dawn upon us are of an endless duration. I can think of nothing more sublime than such meekness and patience from one who had struggled for months for eveiy breath which sustained life. The writer in the old paper remarks, — "Though the style is not ornamented with the tinsel of rhetoric, it is enriched with all the unstudied fervor, gravity, and resignation which woidd be requisite to a chapter of an inspired volume." This beautiful woman — beautiful mentally, physically and spiritually — 16 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. went to rest on the 29th of August, 1809, in the twenty-ninth year of her age. She not only inherited the great independence of her father, hut, as did all of the daughters of that revered man, those wonderful Madonna eyes, which could preach sermons, render sympathy, and plead with others to come up higher, without uttering a word. Miss Barnes was a diligent student of the Bihle, and was able to state logically the careful deductions of her studious hours. The reader will not often find a document more pointed, clear and unanswerable than the follow- ing, written by a girl of twenty-nine, seventy-five years ago : SERIOUS AND IMPORTANT QUESTIONS ANSWERED FROM THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. Q. What is the will of God with regard to mankind ? A. That all men should be saved, and come unto' the knowledge of the truth; and having made known unto us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he hath purposed in himself, that in the dispensation of the fullness of times he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth, even in him. Q. Can the will of God be frustrated? A. No. For there is no power but of God; the powers that be are ordained of God. All nations before him are as nothing; and they are counted to him less than nothing, and vanity. He hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a bal- ance. He therefore worketh all things after the counsel of his own will. He doeth according to his will in the army of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth, and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou? Q. For what purpose did God send his only begotten Son into the world? A. God sent his Sou to be the Savior of the world, to destroy the works of the devil, and to save that which was lost: to finish transgression and make an end of sin, and through death to destroy him that had the power of death, that is the devil, and to give eternal life to as many as the Lord hath given him. Q. How many hath the Lord given him? A. The Father loveth the Son, and hath given all things into his hand; he hath given him power over all flesh. He hath said unto him. Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. Ask of me and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. He shall have dominion also from sea to sea, and from the river unto the ends of the earth. Yea. all kings shall fall down before him: all nations shall serve him. y. What is eternal life'' A. This is life eternal, to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent. Q. Will all mankind 1"- hie,-,! with tin- knowledge of God? A. Fes. For they shall not teach every man his neighbor and every man his brother, saying, EnOW tin' Lord, for all shall know him from the least to the LUCY BARNES. 17 greatest; for I will b<- merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and iniqui- ties will I remember no more. Q. But Christ saith, Ye will not come unto mo that ye might have life; and will they, even all, come ami receive eternal life in him? A. Yes. All that the Father giveth shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out For I came down from heaven not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me; and this is the Father's will which hath scut me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, bul should raise it up again at the last day. Q. Can any one enjoy the kingdom of God except he is horn again? A. No. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man he born again, he can not see the kingdom of God. Q. What is the new birth? A. Being born into the glorious liberty and spirit of the Gospel, turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. Q. Will all mankind be blest with the new birth? A. Yes. For in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast' of wine on the lees, of fat things, full of marrow, of wine on the lees, well refined. And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the cover- ing cast over all people, and the veil that is spread over all nations. And all the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord, and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee. Q. But will not some remain in a state of misery to cry and groan to all eternity? A. No. For the Lord God will wipe away all tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of the people shall he take away from off all the earth, for the Lord hath spoken it. Q. And when will this lie accomplished? A. When the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs, ami everlasting joy upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. (,). Who are the ransomed of the Lord? A. All mankind. For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and men. the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time. Q. But will not some be punished with endless or eternal death, for their diso- bedience to the commands of God? A. No. For th«' Lord will swallow up death in victory. The hist enemy that shall be destroyed is death. Q. When will death be swallowed up in victory? A. 'When this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall lie broughl to pass the saying that is written. Heath is swallowed up in victory. death! where is thy sting? gravel where is thy victory? Q. "Will imt some remain in a state of enmity against God, and in opposition lo_h is will and government, ami blaspheme his holy name, to all eternity? A. No. For thus saith the Lord. I have sworn by myself, the word is gone out of my mouth in righteousness and shall not return, that unto me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear, surely shall one say, In the Lord have I right- 18 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. eousness and strength. And thus saith St. John the divine, every creature which is in heaven, and on earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying, Blessing and honor, and glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever. Q. Will all these promises ever be fulfilled? A. Yes. For God is not a man, that he should lie, neither is he the son of man, that he should repent. Hath he said, and shall he not do it? Hath he spoken and shall he not make it good? Q. Will not the unbelief of some exclude them forever from the enjoyment of these promises? A. No. For what if some did not believe? Shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? God forbid! Yea, let God be true but every man a liar. For God hath concluded them all in unbelief that he might have mercy upon all. Q. The Scripture saith the wages of sin is death, and that death is passed upon all men. for that all have sinned; and will not the greater part of mankind remain in this state of sin and death to all eternity? A. No. For in this seed (which is Christ) shall all the families of the earth be blessed; therefore as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men unto con- demnation, even so by the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life; and as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. LEVISA BUCK. Eev. Thomas Barnes was the father of eight children, all from their earliest youth exhibiting remarkable literary talent. Lucy, of whom the pre- ceding sketch gives an account, and Sally, with the subject of this sketch, were among the ablest women of their times. Levisa wrote much beside the life of her father, which is simply and modestly written. The work is a small 12mo. of 105 pages, entitled "Memoir of the Rev. Thomas Barnes, written and compiled by his daughter, Mrs. Levisa Buck, and edited by Rev. George Bates, Portland; S. H. Colesworthy, publisher, 1856." Mr. Barnes whs born in Merrimack, N. H., Oct. 4, 1749, and died in Poland, Me., Oct. 3, 1810. She also performed the incredible labor of versifying Job and Psalms, with the thought that they might be read by those who would not read flic originals. It has been a great task to collect the few facts I am able to present concerning these noble women, who stood in the front ranks when our friends LEVIS A 1HJCK. 19 were few, and who were in their quiet way a tower of strength to our clergy in those darksome days. They were all so unconscious of themselves that they always left themselves entirely out of their work. Levisa was not an educated woman, hut she had that "low, sweet voice which is an excellent thing in woman," the first note of which quieted and charmed every one within hearing. She talked neither slowly nor rapidly, but her words were as the dropping of honey from the honeycomb. She delighted in reading the Scriptures, and when she read aloud, to the lovers of poetry they became poems, and to the lovers of history they seemed to be living realities. She resembled her sisters in personal appearance. Mrs. A. M. Pulsifer, of Auburn, Me., writes: "Being an enthusiastic worker in the church, she used often to travel long distances on horse-back, as was the fashion of those times, to attend meetings in the surrounding districts, carrying with her in cold weather her little foot-stove, for the meetings were held in rough, cold buildings, with often no means of heating them, and the people who attended could keep from suffering, in the cold season, only by means of warm clothing and foot-stoves. She gladly assisted the sick and needy, and was ready to give help at any call. She kept herbs and simple remedies always at hand, which she freely dispensed to the sick, often nursing them back to health or quieting their last sufferings to the best of her ability. She was a woman of vigorous intellect. Her children, I under- stand, are all intellectual; two are lawyers in California; a daughter, in Bos- ton, was married to Hon. S. B. Shaw, deceased." Tbe following passage is a brief extract from the memoir of her father, who was the first Universalist minister ordained in Maine, Jan. 6, 1802 : At the age of thirty-four we find him the father of seven children, and situated in the town of JafTrey, N. II. It was from this place that he went to hear tin- Rev. Caleb Rich, preacher <>f universal salvation. Mr. Barnes was one of those benevolent Christians who could not rejoice in view of the hopeless prospect of the supposed finally impenitent, however his creed might lead him to expect he should in a holier state of existence. There- fore, after hearing Mr. Rich, and candidly weighing his arguments, he was led to conclude that God might be more merciful than Ins doctrine had taught him to suppose. It was pleasant to his mind and delightful to his throbbing heart to follow the first dawn of divine light on a subject of such thrilling interest to every human being. He began to wish, and shortly after to hope, that the doctrine ct impartial grace was true; it had enlisted the holiest sympathies of his nature; )*• 20 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. had touched a tender chord in his soul, and, if true, would fill him with all joy and peace in believing. He did not nourish a spirit of vindictive wrath against the new doctrine, nor against its advocate in the person of Mr. Rich. He, therefore, concluded to go the second Sunday to hear the glad tidings of a world's salvation. His wife expostulated with him with much earnestness on the impropriety of his attending that meeting again, but he replied that he much desired to go once more, that he might prove all things, and hold fast to that which is good. And thus were the remonstrances made by his excellent wife attended by the same reply for several succeeding Sabbaths. In the course of the week, Mr. Barnes would relate to her the arguments he had heard in support of the doctrine of universal salvation, until Mrs. B. was fearful her husband would become a believer in what she then thought so fatal an error. One day she urged him, with much feeling, to hear Mr. Rich no more. Mr. Barnes made but little reply to her request, but said, when leaving her— "Can my dear Mary set bounds to the love of God?" She imagined she could; at least she would try. God could not love sinners. But had she not herself been a sinner, and did she not now believe herself a partaker of the love of God? And was he not unchange- able? The supposed non-elect passed before her imagination, and the promises of God. Was it possible they could be impartially applied to all mankind? At length she found it impossible to set bounds to the love of God. The more she tried, the more she found his love overleaping every barrier, until it overcame all sin and death; for infinite love can not be bounded by a finite being. We can not help remarking here that if all Christians would endeavor to study the bound- less love of Jehovah, rather than "limiting the Holy One of Israel," it would be far better for the cause of virtue and religion in the world, and the more surely would the happiness of mankind be secured. On her husband's return, Mrs. Barnes communicated to him her unsuccessful efforts to set bounds to the love of God, and of her hopes in a world's redemption; and after a prayerful examination of the Holy Scriptures, they both openly avowed themselves Universalists. Let us imagine ourselves on the solid earth in plain view of a noble ship, freighted with human beings, contending with the wind and waves. We are expecting every moment to see hundreds sink from our view forever. And then let us behold a pilot as he goes to their relief; let us see him bring every one on shore, not leaving a single soul to perish, as a manifestation of his sovereign will and pleasure; let us hear the shouts of joy and the hymns of thanksgiving as they float upon the air from the tongues of those who have been rescued from a watery grave, and who now have the blissful prospect of greeting their wives, their Little ones and their parents. Sueh a scene might give us a fair conception of the joy in the transition from the torments of the doctrine of endless sin and sorrow to the glorious certainty that all mankind shall be safely landed on the "Other side Of Jordan." This heart-cheering truth was truly refreshing to Mr. Barnes and his wife; they were eminently qualified for its enjoyment; their whole souls went with its doctrinal sentiment; they now found their sympathy and love flowing to their whole race, and they fully believed the Lord was good to all his works. This faith was nourished, strengthened and confirmed by a careful perusal of the word of life, until they were both "strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might." SALLY DUNN. 21 SALLY DUNN Was the youngest of the remarkable daughters of Kev. Thomas Barnes, and was horn in Woodstock, Conn., in the year 1783. She was the ablest woman advocate of our faith, of her times, and a royal mother in Israel. Rev. A. Dinsmore, who married one of her daughters, and from whom I get many facts, says: "The first time I ever saw her was at a convention, in 1827, at Livermore, Maine, and my attention was particularly drawn to her on account of her majestic appearance, rapt manner, and the earnest atten- tion she was giving to the speaker, who was the lamented Russel Streeter. As soon as the meeting was dismissed I saw at once by the affectionate title by which she was called by old and young, clergy and laymen, 'Mother Dunn,' that she was a favorite among the people." There was no woman in all that region more widely known and respected, and her influence in establishing our church was as great in Maine at that time as that of any of our ministers. She was what would be called an evangelist. To have called her a preacher would have disquieted her more than anything else, for she especially felt that one should be called to preach the Gospel, although she would sometimes make a conference talk that woidd fill every heart with yeanlings for the better life, and sometimes fill every eye with tears. Her education was slender in her youth, but Mr. Dinsmore says, — "She never forgot any knowledge once acquired, and being of a studious habit, and having a purely literary taste and a great love for the Scriptures, she was continually adding the right kind of material to her mind." Early in her youth she took to her heart her father's religious views, and through life was a distinguished advocate of them. Her addresses, or sermons, as I urast call them, were highly appreciated by the educated of the day. "Her insight into and mastery of the Scriptures were truly remarkable, and her clear, easy and graceful manner of explaining difficult texts was a wonder and a delight to our people," and, others have said, a fear almost amount- ing to nightmare to the more intelligent of the darker faith, for she made the dry bones of Orthodoxy rattle. Josiah Dunn, the husband, was a gentle- man of much force of character and high moral tone, nor was he at all behind 22 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. his -wife in clear, intelligent apprehension and approval of Universalism, but he could not use heart and brain to the same advantage, and make the people see and feel what he saw and felt, as did his noble wife. In appearance Mrs. Dunn was a queenly Quaker, and one friend said of her, — "As a hostess she was charming. At my coming, in her extended hand I always felt her heart throbs." Knowing this, no one can be surprised that their home was the rendezvous of clergy, philanthropists, and literary people. Mrs. Dunn became the mother of thirteen children, five sons and eight daughters, of whom two sons and the youngest daughter are now living, viz : — Hon. E. B. Dunn, of Waterville, Me., aged seventy-nine; Hon. Sebastian Streeter Dunn, formerly a Representative in the Massachusetts Legislature, but now living in Dakota, and Mrs. N. C. Clifford, of Monmouth, Me. They all took honorable positions in society, and reverenced her memory with sweet and tender recollections. I think it will not be out of place to speak of this lady's looks, and to relate a pleasant little anecdote concerning her. She was very handsome ; her eyes were a changeable dark brown, filled with liquid light, that some- times were so happy in their expression that she had the appearance of look- ing far away from this world of mortality upon fields of immortal glory, and then again, whenever she heard an argument made in favor of "Orthodoxy," it woidd bring the expression of her beautiful eyes back to this world, and fill them with pity and beneficence, and she woidd look as though she would if she coidd take all the wandering ones into her own arms, and cleanse and save them. Is it any wonder that she should have crept into the hearts of the people? Add to these eyes a clear complexion tinged with red, a remarkable feature of hers late in life, and auburn hair, and a mouth by which one could read her feelings, and a winning voice, and we have her like- ness as it has been given to me. When she was about seventeen she accompanied her father on one of his appointments, and there met a gentleman not of our faith, but one who had a heart that could appreciate such a woman as she. They met as strangers, but, before she and her father had departed, the gentleman offered her his heart and hand. The dear girl, with some confusion, rose and SALLY DUNN. 28 extended her hand, saying: "I wish you had not spoken, yet I thank you, but I would rather go home with my father." On their way home, to the question of her father, "What did you tell him, Sally?" she repeated: "I told him I would rather go home with you." "Oil and water will not mix," the good father said, "and I rather expect you thought his hell and your heaven would not get on well together." "I should want to be sure, first, that I could turn his hell into my heaven," was her reply. After the most of this sketch was in type I received the following from Mrs. A. M. Pulsifer, the great grand-daughter of Mrs. Dunn: "At a semi- centennial of the Elm-street church, Auburn, Me., in response to a toast, Kev. G. W. Quinby, D.D., related the following anecdote: 'I preached my first sermon in Poland, forenoon and afternoon; for, in those days, a minister who didn't preach twice on Sunday was no minister at all. My knees knocked together with anxiety, and I noticed that in my congregation was Mrs. Dunn, a notable woman, who could preach as good a sermon in ten minutes as most ministers could in an hour. I knew she \v;is a great critic, and I went to one of the brethren and told him I was dis- couraged — I didn't know as I could preach my first semion before such a critic. 'Now, don't be exercised,' said my friend; 'I'll give yoii a good clue to her opinion. If, when you are preaching, she takes out her snuff- box and takes a pinch of snuff, you may be sure she is pleased with the sermon. It will be all right.' I preached universal salvation. I remember the text and the hue of thought just as well as I do what happened yesterday. I kept my eyes on Mrs. Dunn. Pretty soon out she fished her snuff-box, and took two of the longest pinches of snuff a woman ever took in this world, and then cried out 'Amen.' I never thanked God for anything more heartily. I have preached against tobacco and snuff, but always with a mental reser- vation in favor of those two pinches. No pinch of snuff ever encouraged a man like that. It took all the knock out of my knees.' " The "Gospel Banner" relates: "Rev. T. B. Thayer, D.D., exclaimed, after having listened to her for the first time, at a convention in Saco, twenty years ago: 'Tell me, who is that woman! She has unfolded more of the Gospel in ten minutes than any minister here can in a whole sermon!' She inherited the characteristics of her father, but unquestionably excelled him in her clearness of perception and logical deductions. Her method was more 24 OUK WOMAN W011KEBS. nearly akin to that of Eev. Hosea ('Father') Ballou than of any person we ever listened to. The Bible was her delight. She read it and comprehended its teachings, and at that time, when aU sects were so generally intent on bringing our cause into disrepute, she deemed it her duty to embrace every opportunity that presented itself to speak in its defense. But few clergymen of the opposing sects, who called on her for the purpose of 'convincing her of her error,' would venture 'to call' a second time, notwithstanding their positive promise to do so." This remarkable woman died in 1858, aged sixty-five years. We regret that persistent inquiries have produced no more than this brief sketch. SALLY McKINSTRY Was the daughter of Captain Abner Hammond, who was one of the founders of our church in Hudson, N. Y. She was bom in 1798. As a child she was peculiar, thoughtful beyond her years, especiaUy considerate toward old people, and she ever showed great satisfaction if she could be of any service to them. The first act of charity that is remembered of this noble woman was enacted in her childhood, and is characteristic. One day, when very young, she was walking in the street with her father, when they met a httle girl whose dress was so tattered and torn that it could hardly be called a dress. The young philanthropist looked after her for a httle while, white and eager-eyed, and then, placing her hand upon her heart, she said to her father, — "That little girl makes me ache here," and in a moment flew after the poor, distressed little one. Her father saw her unbutton her apron, and heard the words, — "Never mind, I have more," and in another moment she was by her father's side, and with her face bathed in tears, she said, — "God is good to some, sure; but why can he not be so to ah?" The father replied, — "His ways are wonderful, and past finding out, oftentimes, but this morning it is very plain that he sent the poor unfortunate to touch the heart of my little daughter to deeds of charity." From that time on to her death this Universalist sister of charity was on the qui vive to ameliorate the suffer- SAU.Y M, KINSTHY. 25 • ings of others, and as the poor learned this in after years, she was obliged to devote not only her days to their relief, but oftentimes her nights. Hon. Robert McKinstry, to whom she was married in early life, seconded and assisted her in all her charities. He was a gentleman of wealth, high social standing and influence, and mayor of the city for some years, lie was a genuine Universalist and a staunch friend to our church. In his will he bequeathed $20,000 to the First Universalist Church of Hudson, N. Y. The home of the McKinstrys was a most comfortable mansion, but it very soon became altogether too small for the great numbers of poor unfortunates who relied on Mrs. McKinstry for all the necessities of life, and who were received into it as welcome inmates until another home was founded for them. Indeed, so manv resorted to her that she was obliged to rent rooms outside to accom- modate them. Previous to this, however, she kept a reception-room in her own home for the poor. One day a friend from out the city called to see her, and hearing the babel of voices, asked of one of the kinswomen the occasion, and Aunt Becca, whose heart was also filled with love for such, replied, — "They are Sally's Arabs." Of these "Arabs" Mrs. McKinstry took the entire care, thus realizing the dream of her childhood of doing for others. How to systematize her work, that she might be able to do most, was her great anxiety, and in considering this question the thought of the Orphan Asylum, which has reflected so much honor on the city of Hudson, was bom. Many feared it was a Quixotic idea, but her father, understanding his daugh- ter's foresight, sagacity, and perseverance, was so sure of its success that he cheerfully co-operated with her by giving a suitable site for the building. She immediately began to solicit .funds. The history of her county says, — "It ever after absorbed and controlled her entire energies, becoming her para- mount and ruling passion, till the work was completed, in 1850." Men of means were most earnestly besought to assist, and few turned deaf ears, and she always put the most charitable construction upon the refusal of such as declined to render assistance. The history of the county where Mrs. McKinstry lived, says, — "She sought information in all directions, wrote articles, presented the subject before public meetings, sent committees to the legislature, and indeed never faltered until her effort was crowned with success and the asylum W' 26 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. erected, and its permanent continuance provided for. She was immediately, by general consent, chosen chief directress of the institution, an office she held and the duties of which she discharged with singular capacity and devotedness during the rest of her life." She had great influence with the politicians, and always had friends of the asylum at Albany, during the legislative sessions, at work for appropria- tions. It was well known that any man who wanted office kept on the right side of "Aunt Sally," which was easily done by aiding the Orphan Asylum. She was undoubtedly the most influential citizen of Hudson. Eev. L. C. Browne, who was her pastor at one time, says, — "She had great influence among the women of the city, in securing coadjutors. Old and young, high and low, were at her service. She knew what was going on in the homes of the poor, and, wherever there was want or brutality to women or children, over such places she kept close scrutiny, and the appearance of her earnest, kindly face in the doorway of an Irish hovel, in either case would bring joy to the face of the abused and shame to the face of the brute ; and there were many of that class, could they have had their own way, who would have can- onized her, Catholic or no Catholic." Her obituary says : " The life of this remarkable woman will probably never be written, except upon the records of heaven. The writer of this would gladly have entered upon the pleasing task of giving her biography to the world, but soon discovered that it would be impossible to bring to light a life so full of faith, so full of private benevolence, so bound up in secret, stealthy deeds of kindness, love and mercy; and that very many of these were so delicately connected with the secret happiness and the heartstrings of living parents and children that it would be wrong to publish them dur- ing the present generation. Besides this, to do anything like justice to her memory one must collect from all over the face of this country those thou- sands of letters, written by her own hand and by her dictation, which alone would form a monument to her praise, and teach such a lesson of self-sacrifice and Christ-like devotion as the world has rarely witnessed. No one can read her appeals for aid, her more than motherly counsels to her scattered and apprenticed orphans, 1km- forgiving and imploring appeals to the wayward and vicious whom all others had abandoned, without feeling, as the writer SALLY McKINKTEY. 27 of this has often felt and expressed, that God's grace had made of her a won- derful woman. Mrs. McKinstry had no prejudices that even the most inti- mate coidd discover. Her charity was unbounded. In her severest disap- pointments she blamed no one — always had an apology for the most selfish refusal, and a word of praise for the smallest aid to her pet lambs. She seemed to know nothing of Christian sectarianism, but called around her all who would do good, of whatever name, sect, or nation. The excellent ladies that were associated with her in the management of the Orphan Asylum will bear witness to the truthfulness of all that is here written. The mantle that fell as she ascended no one will be willing to put on. The many deeds that her love and patriotism, her faith and prayers enabled her to perform, scarcely any three would be willing to undertake. These ladies will under- take and fully perform all that the best interests of the asylum require. They will endeavor to find out the many precious channels through which her unseen benevolence flowed, and to fill them; and every week they will dis- cover some new evidence of the patience, power, and perseverance of that feeble, faithful woman." Mrs. McKinstry was very handsome in early life, and she coidd have been a leader in fashion, for she inherited quite a fortune, but instead of adorning her person with finery, she dressed very economically, and spent all in benevolence, even foregoing the pleasure of traveling, for twenty-five years never leaving the city. Some of the boys of her asylum rose to positions of honor, which gave her great pride and satisfaction. One of them was a member of the New York legislature at the session of 1853. Rev. L. C. Browne relates that the gentleman came to Hudson and passed a Sunday while he (Mr. Browne) was boarding at Mrs. McKinstry's. "Aunt Sally" was very happy, and took great delight in introducing him to friends and callers at the house. All over the country there are those who have been saved from the oppression of poverty by her, and, better still, from ill-spent lives. She had no children of her own, by birth, to "rise up and call her blessed," but there are scores of the world's children who venerate every letter of her name. God seems to have made her childless that she might be a mother to many of his poor, and she certainly inherited as few have done, the blessing,— 28 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. "Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these, ye have done it unto me." Is it any wonder that the good people of Hudson are not only proud of the memory of such a woman, but worship her for her manifestation of that charity which is greatest of all? Although a firm believer in our ennobling faith, and ever ready to assist in its promulgation by encouraging and giving, she seldom attended church. Her health, which was very delicate, she sacredly expended in the work to which she had consecrated her hfe. She had great regard for the members of our clergy, and one day when she was extolling their virtues, a friend said, — "Aunt Sally, why do you not attend church more?" She replied, — "My strength is all needed in my work for the Lord's poor, and as he has called such noble men into his vineyard, and entrusted to them the teachings of his life, I am content to leave the work with them, and to such as you. to help them. Women must not be idle. " Amanda F., wife of Rev. Gamaliel Collins, writes: "I first met Mrs. McKinstry in the Fall of 18-4G. It was at the end of a wearisome day's journey. The street lamps were already lighted, as we drove rapidly from the depot, stopping before a spacious mansion ablaze with light. We were received by Mr. McKinstry with a stateliness and dignity that, feeling home- sick as I did, being the first time I had left my New England home, chilled me. I had not then learned what a warm, generous nature lay hidden beneath that cold exterior. The family were. at supper. Mrs. McKinstry soon appeared, and her cordial greeting made me feel at home at once. She was dressed in a faded black and white calico, made in the style of what we women call a loose wrapper, fastened at the waist with a belt. Her head was tied up with an abundance of cotton batting, she having had an attack of neuralgia the night before. Her cap was awry, her hair disheveled ; yet, not- withstanding all this, she looked a very handsome woman. Her figure, though a little given to embonpoint, was trim, and her dark grey eyes, pure complexion, fresh white teeth, and classic features are indelibly impressed upon my memory. She had not expected us quite so soon, and our room was not ready, and that evening a large party was to be given in honor of a yotmg bride and groom, who had just come there to board; the relatives from out of town were already arriving; an extra supper had to be prepared, and SALLY McKINSTRY. 29 to crown all a gentleman anil lady called at that moment to have a conver- sation about a little girl they had recently adopted from the Orphan Asylum. "During the week that elapsed while awaiting the arrival of our furnituri , 1 had many opportunities of learning the past history of this remarkable woman, and of the routine of her daily life. Fearing I might be lonely, she kindly offered me a seat in her own room; and to sit in 'Aunt Sally's' room, as she was affectionately called by a large circle of friends and acquaintances, and witness daily the living panorama of all sorts of people on all sorts of errands, was an event in one's hfe not soon to be forgotten. While every other part of the house was attended to and kept in perfect order and neat- ness, in this room, only, disorder and discomfort reigned supreme. She who never turned away the poorest beggars, or refused to minister To their needs, seldom had a moment to think of her own wants; indeed, I do not think it ever occurred to her that she had any. To recall this room is to remember a comfortless bed, folded away in the daytime into a pine wardrobe; an old settee covered with faded calico; a few chairs, a stove, a square table in the corner with an accumulation of books, papers and writing materials, — for the moments she could snatch from other duties were devoted to a voluminous correspondence, consisting mainly in ajmeals for aid for her Orphan Asylum. To found this home for the orphan had been her dream from early woman- hood; and, at this time, a plain structure recently erected, and which shel- tered from thirty to forty little children, was the fruition of the hopes and efforts of many, many years. To realize this dream, she who was the child of wealthy parents and the wife of a successful business man, had dressed herself in cheap calico; had denied herself the commonest luxuries, even the comforts of life; had been willing to take upon herself the charge of a large and fashionable boarding-house. 'For,' as she said to me, '1 could not have the face to call on Mr. Mac for all the aid 1 require, and by keeping up this establishment 1 can feed and help, somewhat, all who come to me for assist- ance.' This was true; and hourly the applicants came. They were always welcome. No matter how ragged or dirty the beggar-child, his hand was kindly taken in hers, his needs inquired into, and when sent to the kitchen it was with a message to the cook to furnish the food he required. Nor were ihe children the only recipients of her bounty. The poor and afflicted of all 30 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. ages and all conditions sought her presence for sympathy and assistance. Servant girls in want of places found with her a temporary home, till, at last, her house became a sort of incipient intelligence office, and I, with many others, often found it convenient to apply to Mrs. McKinstry when a new servant was wanted. "Only once did I know of Mrs. McKinstry leaving her home during the six years I resided in Hudson, except to visit the Orphan Asylum, her parents and sister, who lived directly opposite, and a few indigent families in her immediate neighborhood. I never knew her to treat herself to a drive, or any amusement whatever. The one exception was an unexpected visit paid to myself. I had often jestingly invited her to take tea with me, never suppos- ing, knowing her habits, that she would do so. Much to my delight and sur- prise she walked in one day, attired in a fresh cap and an old black silk, the only dress she possessed except calico, and never indulged in except on Com- mittee days. I will here say a number of ladies connected with the asylum held a meeting once a month at Mrs. McKinstry's house, at which she pre- sided. She laughingly told me she had come to take that cup of tea with me. I had to prepare it early, for she became anxious as night drew on, and I found her nervously pacing the back piazza when I came to announce that it was ready. I considered the visit a great compliment, and told her so. "Mrs. McKinstry was thoroughly imbued with the spirit and belief of Universalism. She was ever interested in all that pertained to church affairs. Her house was the temporary abiding-place of all stray ministers, as well as the place of rest and cheer of the resident clergyman and his family. It was our privilege to pass the last weeks of our stay in Hudson in her hospitable home, and to make it our headquarters in our subsequent visits to that city. A few weeks after her decease I crossed the threshold of her late residence for the last time. A beloved and competent relative had succeeded to the charge of affairs. Except the stream of besieging beggars everything was going on as usual. Busy life prevailed, and the broad halls still echoed to the tread of many feet. But for me the house was silent and void ; its inspiration was gone; the charm of her presence had departed forever. "1 next, proceeded to pay a visit to an upper room across the street, where resided Mother Jenison and her widowed sister, who for a long time SARAH JifvOUGHTON. 31 had been Mrs. McKinstry's pensioners. With streaming eyes they talked of their loss. She had come in, the night of her decease, as she always did the last thing before retiring, to make her kind inquiries, and see if their wants were all attended to. She tallied of her plans for the morrow, and, bidding them a cheerful good night, left them. An hour later, by the moving lights and apparent confusion in the mansion opposite, they felt that something unusual had happened. Too soon the dreadful news came; their protectress was no more. "In company with a mutual friend I sought the place where reposed all that was earthly of my beloved friend. Long and reverently we stood by that sodless grave. For us it was a hallowed spot. As yet no stone marked her resting-place, but an offering of flowers lay at the head of her grave. 'They are always here,' said my companion; 'a fresh bouquet every day, placed here by unknown hands.' "Many years have passed. I know not what monument rises above that sacred sepulchre, nor on what tablet her virtues are commemorated. I only know her memory is enshrined in the hearts of the poor, and thus she is ever immortal." Mrs. McKinstry died June 22, 1862, aged sixty-four years. She was followed to the grave by the inmates of the asylum, and a crying crowd of poor unfortunates from all over the city, and every day for years after her death the hillock in the graveyard where her remains repose was strewn with fresh flowers, the tribute of unknown bauds. SARAH BROUGHTON. Although this beautiful woman is where neither pity nor sympathy can reach her, yet every letter I receive in regard to her life calls out all the sympathies of my bein^ for the suffering she endured here, and I cannot help wishing that she could know how many of her earthly friends revere and love her memory. Sarah Sumner was the daughter of Daniel Sumner, of Lamoille, Vt. 32 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. She was bom in the morning of the 29th of Oct., 1802. The morning was bright and radiant; and when the babe was placed in the mother's arms the mother said: "If betokening signs are true, my babe is to have a pleasant life." But before midday the sun was darkened with angry and forbidding clouds, and a storm of rain and wind succeeded. But the evening of the day was made beautiful by the shining forth of the sun, and its peaceful set- ting. If that mother could have lived to the rounding of that dear one's life, she woidd have recalled the typical omens, and perhaps would have asked the question, — "Why is it that God deals so severely with his bright and good ones?" A friend of Mrs. Broughton said to her, at a time when she was suf- fering from some great trouble,— "I pity you! why are you so afflicted?" and the patient one replied, — "I must need affliction. If we judge of our bodily needs by the violence of the medicine given, we must judge of our spiritual needs by what our spiritual physician administers." This sentiment she expresses in her poem entitled "Sorrow:" "I know there are afflictions like the soft Spring morning showers. That drench in tears the opening buds of May's sweet-blooming flowers, Yet add new beauty to the leaf, fresh vigor to the stem. And teach the lily to outvie the proudest diadem." And this woidd have been the reply to the mother's question. Sarah's family were plain but kind and large-hearted j)eople, fond of reading; and in her girlhood she showed mental superiority and poetical genius. When but four or five years old she would gather blossoms and hide herself among the tall grass, and make what she called verses of the flowers; her artistic eye as well as poetic soul would blend the colors until they were pleasing, and that she called poetry. She was too young to realize that those were to be the only sorrow-free days of her earthly existence. Sarah lived by the banks of the winding Lamoille; and soon after her death, Mrs. L. F. W. Gillette wrote an article for the "Ambassador," in which she said, — "Sarah would frequently steal out from her low chamber when the family were at rest, and, with her glistening purple-black hair hanging around her white robe, would glide noiselessly to the river, with her small feet hang- ing down the bank, her ear drinking in the music of the singing waters, and her gaze riveted upon the starry skies, or watching the dappled shadows cast SARAH BBOUGHTON. 33 by the waving tree-leaves and the silver moonlight. Nor would she seek her pillow until her sonl was filled with the gathered loveliness; then she would return with her large Mack eyes gleaming with clear, poetic fire. "She had few advantages when a child. The great natural world with its beauties, and the angels with their white wings and soaring love, were ever by her side. These were her true instructors, for there was no one wise in hid- den lore, or who could understand and guide her warm, enthusiastic nature, and sympathize in her peculiar and eager desire for mental improvement. And more than ah, the great tide of tenderness that ebbed and flowed in her child-heart was doomed to roll on and in and around the heart-walls, for there was no human being who knew their depths, whose heart could give back in exchange the same deep, mellow sentiment; and in the deep, dark valley she moved alone, her young spirit fearless amid the beauty and grand- eur that surrounded her." When about twelve years old her parents moved to New York. Her father died soon after — a great grief to her. At fifteen she supported herself by teaching. When eighteen years old she moved with a friend to Malone, N. Y., but continued her teaching until she was married, which was at the age of twenty-three, in 1825, to S. H. Broughton, of Malone, N. Y. Her only surviving child, Mrs. L. J. Watkins, Han Jose, Cah, says: "I can not give you as much as I would about my mother, for I was not eighteen when I left home, and I have never set eyes on her dear face since, and that was thirty years ago. By nature my mother was a 'Mary,' hut by circumstances a 'Martha:' that is, her cares turned the current of her life from the ideal to the practical. She was very fine-looking — large, dark, lustrous eyes, glossy blue-black hair, and an expressive, broad forehead; and her friends used to say that her smile was the most radiant that ever spread its sweetness upon a human face. In her early life my mother was a Presbyterian, and I have heard her say that she became a Universalist by reading the Bible." Soon after her marriage, Mrs. Broughton found that she had not only her- self to provide for, but a husband inclined to indulge in drink: and her first effort toward it was in keeping young lady hoarders for the school; and Mrs. Gillette relates the circumstances which introduced her to the public. One "composition day" a young lady desired to exchange work. If Mrs. Brough- 34 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. ton would write the composition she would perform the labors of the morn- ing. The exchange was agreed upon between them. The composition elicited great praise, and was caUed for as a contribution to the village paper. The young lady consented, and revealed the name of the author. Soon after Mrs. Brough ton became one of the favorites of the "Magazine and Advocate," "Universalist Union," "Ladies' Repository," "Rose of Sharon," and other Universalist publications, and ever devoted her time and strength to our denominational literature. Mrs. Broughton was the mother of six grown children — Sumner, Celeste, Harry, Laura, Charles and Maria. Laura is a resident of San Jose, Cal., with whom her father resides — now, alas! debased by appetite, unable to appreciate or enjoy his only child's tender care. Intemperance had brought the husband and father so low, and his cronies were so many, that it was thought best to change their residence, and Michigan was chosen as a place far enough removed from his old haunts for their home. But the change made no improvement; he continued in his old habits tmtil the family was reduced to the lowest poverty, and was supported only by the pen of that crucified heart. It was in 1819 that she came to Michigan and lived within eleven miles of Rev. E. M. Woolley; and longing for sympathy from some true heart, she left home for a visit with the Woolleys. Neither Mr. Woolley nor his daughter, Fidelia, had ever met her until she walked into their modest home for a visit. They saw at a glance that she was the wreck of a once gloriously beautiful woman. Mrs. Gillette says that her long, shining black hair was then threaded with white ; her large, black eyes dimmed by years of sorrow; her features, sharpened by complicated cares and sickness; her slight form emaciated; and the great, massive head seemed too heavy for the slen- der neck that upheld it. To hear her speak and observe her manner, one felt that tender, deep, passionate, all- sacrificing love was her nature. We can but believe that this grand and sorrowing woman went back to her cheerless home comforted by the words spoken to her by the great-hearted Woolley, and cheered by the communion with our then youthful singer, who says: "In the Autumn of 1848 I passed two weeks in her home on the banks of the blue-lipped Clinton. The golden memories of that happy visit will, I trust, be kept by all then there, in the holy home to which we are all hasten- SARAH BROUGHTON. 35 ing. To others, perhaps, they would be nothing. It were enough that the wife, the mother, the friend was far more than the world can ever know her to have been. One year more and I was with her again. But the little light that hung about her heart and home at the time of my first visit had all departed. A young bride was on the eve of departure for the land of the set- ting sun; two sons were very ill — one with chills and fever; the other, upon whom she had hoped to lean in her declining years, it was feared was in con- sumption; and her first-born lay in his coffin-home, ready for the bearers. That night, as I sat by her side, she looked up from her pillow and said,— 'I fear insanity;' " and Mrs. Gillette continues by saying, — "When I looked upon her great brain, and thought of the deep tenderness of her nature, and the crushing circumstances of her life, I was only surprised that the spirit had not ere this cut itself away. " A few years later her eldest daughter passed into the life beyond. Another writes: "She was a woman of commanding presence, but when I last saw her, her large dark eyes, through which her heart ever spoke, told a story of not only a buried and broken heart, but a brain that had begun to give way beneath the pressure of blending burdens." But she so far recovered her health as to be able to write, and among her last productions was the following, to her now only surviving child, Laura, the bride who had gone to the Pacific coast : THE FAREWELL. The hour has passed, ami thou no more shall see The mother who watched o'er thine infant years, Who through griefs weary season cared tor thee, While the bruis'd heart-strings wepl their crimson tears. No more thou'lt see me; o'er the waters bright, In whose clear depth the circling rainbows sleep, Thy onward path shall be, while mournful light Collies tO these eyes that can not cease to weep. Thou wilt roam gaily on the far-off shore. Where the unclouded Summer sunlighl gleams, And list at eve the breakers' solemn roar. That greets the swelling song ol rushing streams. Soft, odorous gales, from many a sea-rocked isle. With balmy wing may fan the orange Bowers, yg OUR WOMAN WORKERS. And birds of gorgeous plume may sing the while Their merry carols 'mid the fadeless bowers. The morning sunlight on the ocean wave May shed a radiance like the smile of God; Wild mountain torrents golden sands may lave, And flowery gems inlay the verdant sod; But in the lonely hours thy soul shalt turn With restless longings to the hallowed shrine, Where, till life's latest flame shall cease to burn, Thy mother's deathless love for thee shall pine. Upon that heart where thy young head did rest So tenderly, in the bright, sinless years, The weary clasp of sorrow's chain is prest, And through the gathering gloom no star appears. God bless and keep thee; though we meet no more, Amid the green paths ot the pleasant earth, I'll wait thee on the high, immortal shore, Where time's frail children gain the angel-birth. The mother-heart shall know thee, in that clime, Where the redeemed ones walk in robes of white, And greet thee with the song of bliss sublime, And wreathe thy brow with flowers of golden light. And we will walk beside life's crystal stream That flows forever from the glorious throne. And tune our lyres to love's exhaustless theme, While the eternal ages circle on. Her son Henry, thinking only of his mother's comfort, went to Lake Superior prospecting, and -fortune smiled to such an extent that he was soon ahle to send for her, and not only make her comfortahle hut give her all the luxuries of those days. They had anticipated much pleasure and happiness in their new and romantic home, and she had promised her son that she would take no care, hut devote the remainder of her life to literary labor. But I give below a letter written to Mrs. Gillette a few months after she arrived at her new home : "It was not until a day or two before her death that I admitted a fatal termination to her disease. She assured me she should recover. How fer- vently ( prayed she would! She revive'! so much the day or two before her SARAH UROUGHTON. 87 death, and spoke so cheerfully of her recovery, that I left her a few hours, to go out to the mines, where business required my attention. When I returned in the evening, mother did not know me, and she did not speak except to ask for water. Her poor, shattered frame was nearly wasted away before her spirit left it. in a few moments, I saw there was no hope. She died on the evening of the 20th of December, 1853, after an illness of three weeks, of typhoid fever. She died without a fear. The dark valley of the shadow of death had no terrors for her. This cold, frigid region is not where 1 should wish to consign her precious dust to its last abode; but she was anxious to come here, and here she was willing to die. We are alone now, and we feel that she loved us with a love we shall never know again." And this dear boy, forgetting everything but his mother's love and his loss, adds, — "She was in the completest sense a martyr to her love for her children." But the daughter, remembering the long sufferings her mother had endured, says, — "No! She was a martyr to rum." However this was, we are reminded of what Lord Byron says of the oak: "The tree hath lost its blossom ; and the rind, chopped by the ax, looks rough and little worth, but the sap lasts." From a manuscript volume of her poems, kindly loaned by her daughter, Mrs. L. J. Watkins, of San Jose, Cal., the following are extracted: SUNSET. Softly the sunbeams gild the distant mountain. Veiling -with purple light its frowning crest, Flinging their radiance o'er the silvery fountain. That mirrors back heaven's richly-broidered vest. How beauteous are the sunset-banners, waving Their golden-penciled folds along tin' sky. While liquid pearls tho folded flowers are laving, And the bright lamps of love are lit on high. The gorgeous drapery that veils the azure Is folded as no other hand ran fold Save his who bids the whirlwinds do his pleasure. And in his grasp the slumbering thunders hold; Whose chariot rolls above the whirling billows Borne by the darkling pinions of the storm: Whose throne is based on truth's enduring pillars. While love and power his high behests perform. 38 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. It seems as if the angel-band, descending. From the bright realms of glory far away. Their flight to some fair orb awhile suspending, With heaven's own radiance crowned the fading day. So softly bright the soul, with sweet emotion, Bows reverently, as if before that shrine "Where seraphs veil their brows in deep devotion. And myriad harpers raise the chant divine. With low and silvery tones the gales are sighing Their farewell echoes through the quivering boughs. Like the hushed spirit's moan, when friends are dying. Ere yet the icy garland twines their brows. Darkness and shadow o'er the vales are creeping, Blendings of twilight veil the crystal rill; The lowly wild-flowers' gentle tears seem weeping, And mystic influence the spirit thrill. Sweet star of even, on the horizon beaming. How beautiful thy teachings to the soul! From the mysterious depths of azure gleaming, Thou speak'st of climes where floods of knowledge roll; Like the blest star, that beams in smiling splendor, When round us sweep the shadows of the tomb, Drawing us upward,, where, in dazzling splendor, Love's glorious sun dispels each shade of gloom. In this blest home the spirit fondly lingers. Above the hallowed mounds where sweetly rest The cherished dead, and memory's busy fingers Thrill with sad touch the wildly-throbbing breast. And as the rainbow tints are fading slowly, + And night her jeweled coronet puts on. The spirit trusts, with resignation holy. To meet them on the resurrection morn. STANZAS. How fair is the tinge of the young, vernal rose As in bright blushing beauty its petals unfold, And with diamond-drops sparkling the carnation glows, Winn in glory the banners of morn are unroll'd. But the violel fringe of those pennons will fade. And the tempest's breath darken the carnation's glow; And the rose where the pencil of beauty hath stray'd, When the storm-cloud hath passed shall lie mournfully low; SARAH BKOUGHTON. 39 And the pure gems Of lighl that so brilliantly beamed In a circlet of love round the fond mother's heart. One by one must go down in the dark-rolling stream. And like shadows of glory, at sunset depart. But a beautiful region is beaming afar. Where tin' crystalline fountains, o'er-shadow'd with bloom, Cast their spangles of lighl on the sweet-scented air. And the wings of the cherubim scatter perfume. t There the flowers that withered 'neath time's chilling sky, Transplanted shall live in perennial prime, While the anthems of glory an- sounding on high, And the arches of sapphire ring back the loud chime. THE FALL OF JERUSALEM. How fair is the land to the eye! How lovely her prospects appear! The cedars of Lebanon flourish on high, And the roses of Sharon are here, The milk and the honey and wine From the land of the chosen are flowing; Mount Carmel is spread with a carpet of vine. And the balm is from Gilead blowing. The lily and rose in the valley are seen, And the hills of Judea are sunny and green. Jerusalem! proud is thy story. With splendor and pomp and high daring allied; Here glitters thy temple, the pageant of glory. The crowning of Palestine's pride; The sound of the tabret and sackbut is heard. As nations go in at thy gate; The heathen the gleam of thy panoply feared. And named thee the mighty and great. Art thou guiltless? Ah, no; for the groans of the just And the blood of thy martyrs cries out from the dust. Art thou guiltless? answer, thou tears That fell upon Bethany's plain! Bear witness, the scourge and the fears which appeared On the hill where Messiah was slain! The angel <>f death with the sword of thy doom Shall the hand of Omnipotence stay? Speak, prophet of Nafcareth! speak from the tomb Where thy murdered mortality lay. 40 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Art thou guiltless? Ah, never! for damp is the sod With the blood of thy prophets, the tears of thy God. There's a curse on thy green, sunny bowers; The voice of thy thunder comes fearful and loud From the cloud hanging over the turrets and towers. And red is the fringe of that ominous cloud. Ah, hushed be the song of thy mirth; Let guilty delinquents turn pale; The swift march of earthquakes re-echoes through earth. And a rumor of conflict hath laden the gale. O ye innocent! flee to the mountains, for nigh Is the doom of the guilty, and sealed from on high. Proud city, thy glory is fading; The armor of David is covered with rust. And the Roman avenger through carnage is wading. To trample thy splendors in dust! See! proud o'er that battle array The Julian banner is streaming; And bright as the sunbeams that gladden the day The lance and the helmet are gleaming. Abandoned Solyma! the vial is poured, And famine and faction combine with the sword. O where is the shield that was spread When the infidel came in his might? For the hearts of the valiant were throbbing with dread, As he bared his strong arm for the fight. ' And oft was the proud pagan there, To rob and lead captive away; Yet the lion of Judah awoke from his lair, And rent from the spoiler his prey, Mourn, hapless Judea! in sackcloth and dust; Thy God thou hast crucified! where is thy trust? Now tin' Ottoman sits on thy throne, Aim! sways his curs'd rod o'er his subjugate lands. On the hills where the temple of Solomon shone The mosque of the Saracen stands. The hand of oppression hath scattered a blight. And hath her anathema spoken. In vain, ye crusaders, ye rush to the fight; For her bondage is not to be broken; Not yet to be broken! Accomplished her curse, The page of her doom the Most High shall reverse. EUNICE HALE WAITE COBB. 41 EUNICE HALE WAITE COBB. Eunice Hale Waite was bom in Kennebunk, Me., Jan. 27, 1803, the second child of Capt. Hale Waite and his wife Elizabeth (nee Stanwood). The health of her father failing, he returned to Old Ipswich, Mass., from which they had removed but a short time before her birth. Eunice was in her fifth year when her father died, leaving a widowed mother with four daughters. The two younger than Eunice passed away in infancy or youth. From her father's death until the age of ten she was cared for by her grand- parents, and consequently reared in the midst of the veiy hot-bed of the extremest Calvinism, which, in its most terrible forms, and in all its naked- ness of horrors, was her daily and hourly spiritual pabulum; and her son, Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., the author, says: "Do not forget that this was at the most impressionable period of her life, that period when the mind is sup- posed to take on its most lasting forms of thought and feeling, and this period was wholly under the influence of Calvinistic Limitarianism, pure and undefiled." A great and blessed change came to Eunice at the age of ten. Her mother took for her second husband Samuel Locke, Esq., one of the good Father's own men, a man of liberal education, a school preceptor by profes- sion, a great-hearted, liberal-minded, Christian man, and a Universalist. His residence was in Hallowed, Maine, on the Kennebec, thenceforth the home of Eunice Waite. It was not long before the quick-discerning mind of this precocious child saw and felt that the faith of her step-father har- monized with the desire of her soul, and she went to him for spiritual guidance and help. In his wisdom he said: "I will not try to shake your faith, but I would have you study candidly, patiently, Intelligently, fearlessly, the Bible. Study it in the light of God's character as a universal parent. Study the New Testament in the light of what you know to have been the purpose and plan of your Father in heaven in sending his only begotten Son to earth, and you will forget the old dogmas that haunt you by day and by night." She did as advised, and the result was "The First Article," and 42 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. from that time to her passing into everlasting day her soul basked in the full light of the glorious Gospel of the blessed and universal Redeemer. The article above mentioned was written for the "Universalist Magazine" of April 21, 1821, a paper published by Henry Bowen, in Boston, and edited by Rev. Hosea Ballou. The paper was a foho, each page 10^x8 inches. The article occupied one -fourth of the paper. At that time men were scarce who dared to come boldly to the front as ministers of the Gospel, willing to declare God's universal goodness; and Mr. Ballou, while reading the article for the first time, congratulated him- self to the close, believing the author to be a man, and a new candidate for the ministry. The signature, Eunice Hale Waite, dispelled the hope that it was a male convert who would be willing to come into his Master's vine- yard and work for the redemption of souls. In those days a woman ministry was unheard of; so "Father Ballou," as we will affectionately call him, was conscientious in not urging this young girl to enter a field of labor which it was almost a disgrace for even a man to occupy. And we hope that women wih never forget that men made this new field of labor not only respectable but easy for them to walk therein. Mr. Ballou was not wanting in appreciation of a spirit that had burst its fetters; and he said to Rev. Thomas Whittemore, — "What shall we do to show our appreciation of this sister who has dared to face the criticising world for Christ's sake?" It was decided to have this first article printed in sheets and distributed for the purpose of strengthening others who stood between the old and the new theologies, doubting. Two copies were printed on white satin and sent to the author. It was not the Bible alone which taught young Eunice to believe in the liberation of every soul from sin and suffering ; it was not that alone that lifted her above the accusation which was almost universally given to God, that he would with pleasure condemn a large portion of his children to eternal wretchedness, but it was our great and beautiful world, lavishly decked with every beauty and grace and needed comfort, that breathed his divine and universal love into her seeking soul. The article referred to above, in its original form, was sent to me by R< v. Anson Titus, of WVvnionth, Mass. \i here follows, and this letter i,-; EUNICE HALE WAITE OOBB. 1 I Euin -i Hale Wjite's simple testimony to the beauty and value and glory of the blessed A_brahamic faith: To thk Editob of the Univebsalist Magazine— Sir:— Undoubtedly you will I • somewhat surprised al the reception of ;i letter, ;it this time, from an utter stranger, bul although we are strangers to each other, I trust we are not strangers to thai Being who has. I humbly trust, by his grace enabled us to obtain a full belief in his Son Jesus Christ. I have Ions premeditated writing to you. bul have deferred it. realizing my own weakness and inability of writing to one so far superior to myself; but I have now ventured, relying entirely on your charity and Christian disposition to pardon the many errors which may present themselves on this sheet. It will be my object in this epistle, as it may not be uninteresting to you, to give you a short sketch of my life, and conversion to the Abrahamic faith. I was born in Kennebunk. My father dying when I was a child, I spent much of my time with my grandparents, whose object it ever was to store my mind with usefulness and lessons of piety; but they, being strict Calvinists, taught, as many oih.rs do, after the old traditional form, that Ther^ is a dreadful fiery hell, Where wicked ones must always dwell. It was the custom of the family, for those of us who were young, every Sabbath to recite to my grandmother lessons in the catechism, and repeat hymns which we had learnt from the primer and other small books, and my mind being young and tender, thereby became the seat of tradition and error. When I was at the age of ten my mother again married, and removed to Hallowell. My catechetical les~ons now became unpracticed, and my hymns almost forgotten, and nothing particular occurred until the Autumn of 1817, when Winthrop Morse, a Baptist preacher, came to Hallowell. He being much liked as a preacher, and his fame much talked of, consequently excited much attention among the people; and I, feeling a curiosity to hear him, accordingly went and heard him preach from Amos,— "Prepare to meet thy God." He set forth two characters— those who were pre- pared to meet Cod, and those who were nut; and upon his expatiating upon those characters, I found myself to be one of those who were entirely unprepared; and feeling in some degree sensible of my situation, my mind became much exercised, and I felt sensible of the necessity of a preparation being made in this world to meet God in the coming. But tradition, which had been for a long time asleep in my breast, now awoke in its most glaring colors, and would often cause me to answer in the affirmative to some of the most inconsistent questions that were ever asked by man, some of which were the following.— "Do you feel willing to be cast off forever? And do you feel that it would be just in God to consign you to irrecoverable woe?" To these and many others I would readily assent, being totally ignorant of the erroneous nature of them. I was young ami unacquainted with the Scriptures of divine truth: therefore did. like many others, put my trust in an arm of flesh, as it respects religious principles. After I thought I had evi- dence that my sins were forgiven. I strove for a lone; time to support error, to support the doctrine of election and endless misery, but something would always whisper.— "All is not right." I would read some, and converse much with those who would spare no pains in trying to convince me that such tenets were com- patible with the word of God, but still there was something which I could not 44 OUE WOMAN WOEKEES. reconcile. My mind continued in this unsettled frame for more than a year. I had heard the doctrine of universal love contended for, but like all others who never peruse the word of God for their own instruction, thought it to be one of the most erroneous principles which man could imbibe, but never could give my rea- sons for thinking so. At length I heard a few words read in your "Notes on the Parables," which convinced me there was a treasure contained in the word of God which I never diligently sought after. My step-father being a man of liberal sentiments, and much acquainted with the Scriptures, I would often ask his .opinion on such passages of Scripture as I could not fully comprehend, being very ignorant of them myself: but he would ever refuse giving me his opinion. knowing my mind was not established, but always commend me to the word of God, assuring me that was the only sure guide which I could take,— and would likewise tell me of the necessity of reading for myself. Finding there was no other resource, I now felt a determination to read, and as far as my abilities would admit, judge for myself. I found the Scriptures were very plain, and contained many precious promises, which appeared to be for all; but still my mind was not established, nor ever would have been, had not more powerful means been applied than is possible for the greatest divines to make use of; it was indeed God alone who could have confirmed my mind, and blessed be his holy name. One Sabbath morning, my mind being very much exercised, and feeling sensible that it was the word of God alone which I ought to take as the man of my counsel, and to him alone I had ought to look for instruction: after committing myself to his care and protection, and beseeching of him to enlighten my understanding, and give me a clear and perfect view of the holy Scriptures and the doctrines therein con- tained, I opened the sacred volume, and immediately cast my eyes upon a chapter which I had no recollection of reading before— it being the second chapter of 1st of Timothy; and never could the cooling streams give more joy to the thirsty traveler on the scorching sands of Arabia than these blessed, comprehensive and universal sentiments gave to my thirsty mind. That thick cloud of error and tra- dition which had so long beclouded my understanding was now dispelled, and I could behold the universal goodness of God not only exhibited in the Scriptures, but in all the works of his bountiful hand. It was here that St. Paul was made an instrument in the hands of God, of converting one to his most holy faith; and may God, as long as he shall grant me breath, grant faculties capable of praising his holy name for bringing me out of nature's darkness into his great and mar- velous light. I spent sixteen years of my life, before I enjoyed a mind free and estab- lished; since that, which has been two years, for the most part of the time I have enjoyed uninterrupted happiness in contemplating and meditating on the universal goodness of Clod; and although I have been, and am still, often assailed by the enemies who have begged of me to renounce such erroneous principles, and often told even by professed Christians that it was only the works of the devil, yet I still feel a determination to advocate the cause in which I reel a greal desire to tic assiduously engaged. I have often been told that a belief like mine would do to build upon in prosperity, but would fail in the day of adversity; but, indeed, I have found their assertion to be false, for I have found a firm belief in the mer- cies of God to be a covert from the storm, and a hiding-place from the tempest: and. when trouble has surrounded me. it has made the day of adversity appear '•aim and serene. J was called about live months since to part with an only sister. EUNICE HALE YVAITE COBB. 45 who, being but only two years older than myself, the separation was rendered inil I painful: but bow comforting beyond description is the reflection that it is no1 eternal; indeed, I fell a great desire for her life, but, when I was called to see her resign her breath to him who gave it. viewing her so far through this trouble- some, sinful world, and about to launch into an unbounded ocean of eternal felicity, how willing did I (eel to leave her in the hands of that being who "work- eth all things after the counsel of his own will." Ami I trust it will be but a short time before i shall be permitted to meet her in the realms of everlasting day. where we never shall be again separated. I never have had the privilege of hearing the universal love of God publicly contended for but once, and that was soon after my conversion to the faith. As I am deprived of this privilege, I often look forward with acclamations of joy, in anticipation of that all-glorious period when the praise of God shall become uni- versal; when, I trust, I shall be, permitted to join, the whole human family, to compose one universal assembly, who will all surround the spotless throne of (bid's eternal love, and there, free from all interruption, join in ascriptions of never-ceas- ing praise to him who died on Calvary's summit; who cried,— "It is finished!" Wowed his gentle head and gave up the ghost; who wrought out and brought in an everlasting salvation, which is unto all, and upon all those who believe. Mr. Ballon, I trust I have sufficiently apologized for the liberty which I have taken of writing to you, therefore, I shall now give my reasons for doing it; it was not because I thought myself qualified to fulfill atask like this, which prompted me to undertake it, but the great desire which I have long felt of informing my brothers and sisters in the cause of the great and unbounded goodness of God, of his goodness to one of his most unworthy creatures, and the great satisfaction which I have derived since I have lived in the enjoyment of a firm belief in that glorious doctrine which tends at all times to comfort and animate the believer: and if possible convince its enemies, that there is that joy and comfort in believ- ing which the world can neither give nor take away. Should you think this, after much correction, worthy a place in your Magazine, you have the liberty of insert- ing it. After begging an interest in your prayers to God, that I may prove Faithful to the end. I take the liberty of subscribing myself your unworthy sister in Christ. E. H. W. The following, which relates the process of her conversion, is from her chary, copied by her son Sylvan us for this book, but, on account of her many old friends in Maine, "The Gospel Banner" has been permitted to print it: It was while this revival was in progress that my father, who was a daily reader of his Bible, received, through a friend, Rev. Hosea Ballou's "Notes on the Parables." and his work on Atonement. With these works in hand he set himself to read the Old and New Testaments through in course, the result of which was that his faith, long ago broken loose from Limitarianism, became firmly fixed, and he knew that he was a Universalist. I had 1 n watchful of his religious and Biblical studies, and knew when he had Anally embraced tic Universalist faith. I dared not converse with him on tin' subject. I really felt— felt it in my heart— 46 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. that it would be sinful in me to converse willingly on religious subjects with one who believed that God would save everybody. I even felt that it might be, on my part— seeking for light and salvation as I was— an unpardonable sin for me to- deliberately come in contact with such a dreadful doctrine! Something of my suffering may be gathered from the fact that, when my father would take up the Bible to read to my mother, I would flee from the room, knowing that it was his habit to analyze and explain as he w T ent on. Often, when he was reading aloud from one of Mr. Ballou's works, I would And that the thin partition between my chamber and the room they occupied was not sufficient to deaden his rich, sonorous voice; and then, when I found the heretical arguments reaching my understanding, I would stop my ears with my fingers, and so sit until he had finished his reading for the evening. At length, the church government, having become satisfied of the genuineness of my experience, and desirous of enlisting me in their ranks as a convert from Congregationalism, proposed that I should be baptized, and make a full and pubjfc profession of religion.—/, p.— of Calvinism in its strictest sense. As I have before remarked, I felt deeply upon the subject of baptism, and desired that it should be by immersion. Finally, the edict went forth. It was arranged that I should unite myself with the church, and the day was set for my baptism. Having reached this stage, I thought what a glorious thing it would be if I could get my dear father to see the error of his way, and come to Jesus, as I had done. The thought, once entertained, burdened me. I pondered long and earnestly. At length I resolved, if it were possible, to bring my father and my minister together, for I fully believed that Mr. Morse, if he could have the oppor- tunity, would not fail of effecting a change in the dear man's views and feelings. Never mind how I went about the work. Suffice it for me to say that I contrived the meeting as I had wished. My father had consented to receive and entertain tin' clergyman who was to baptize me, and dismissed his school much earlier than usual in order that he might properly entertain his guest. But I had not let him know my object. If he suspected it, I had made no sign. I had, however, duly informed my minister of my object, and had urged him to come prepared to lead my erring father to the true Gospel light and life. The hour arrived, and with it came my minister, with my father at home to receive him. The tea table was cleared and set aside, and then followed conver- sation. My father was a modest, unobtrusive man. and would not begin an argu- ment with an opponenl in his own house: but his head and face betokened an intellect of exceptional power, and evidently the young minister was not eager to assail him. At Length I discovered that I must bring on the controversy myself, and I did it by remarking to the visitor- that my father had embraced a faith that I feared would resull in his final and eternal ruin. "Ah!" said the minister, "what is that?" "Why," I replied, "he professes to believe that Cod will eventually save every human being. Really, lie does not believe in the eternal torments of the wicked, nor in a hell set apart for that work." The minister appealed to my father to know if I had stated the case truly, and was briefly answered in the affirmative. EUNICE HALE WAITE COBB. 17 "Indeed!" cried Mr. Morse, with much surprise. "I can not understand how you can give credit to a doctrine so utterly opposed to the Word ot God." My father replied with perfect good nature and calm sincerity, that he did not think he could be iud d to believe anything opposed to the Word of God. "As for the doctrine of the final holiness and consequent happiness of all < ; • .< I - children, I find it taught, first, in the very nature of the almighty and omniscient Father; ami, next. I And it plainly set forth in the Bible, from beginning to end." I may remark here that three simple words from my father's lips sent a strange thrill to my heart. He had said, "final holiness, and consequent bappiness, of— what?— all God's children!" How differently it sounded from "all mankind." or ",:ll men," or "everybody," as we Limitarians were fond of putting it. But the minister had come prepared, and he set himself to the work. He commenced in a sort of pitying tone, as though in sorrow for the ignorance of one who knew so little of Scripture. Then he assumed a patronizing air, as of one who was willing to instruct; and he concluded in true heroic style. He had put forth the grand force of argument of which he was master, quoting freely and glibly from the Holy Text, pouring out assertions and propositions fresh from use in his late revival work, and winding up with an earnest appeal t<> his hearer to save himself while yet there mighl he time. I saw an easy, waking smile upon my father's face as he prepare, I to speak in reply. He had listened in silence, and with profound attention. H immenced by presenting what he deemed to be the true (diameter of God. From this he made four direct propositions: First- Did God have in mind a definite purpose when he entered upon the work of creating and peopling the world? Second- Considering that he created children in his own image, what, from his known Character and attributes, must have been the nature of that original purpose? That is;— If he had an end in view in creating man. what was that end? Third— Considering that God is the sole and only creator.— that all things are by him created,— would he have been likely to deliberately create a power whose whole end and aim of life should be to frustrate the grand and holy purposes of his Maker? Fourth— All things considered,— if God had a plan in view in the morning of creation, may we not have faith to believe that he will carry it out to the end. Or. if In- is to fail of accomplishing his purpose, what reason have we to put faith in anything under the sun? "And. sir." said my father.— I can remember his very words and his wondrous look,— "you would tell me that even after God himself has come down to earth, taken on tin' human form, and offered himself, through a cruel, ignominious death, upon the cross, lor the purpose of accomplishing a sal- Nation, which hi' so Lamentably failed to accomplish when he had the work fresh ami new in his hands,— you will tell me that, after all this, the result so earnestly desired by the Almighty Father must depend upon the will and caprice of the poor, Unite, erring and bewildered child and subject!" Mr. Morse, it was plain to be seen, was feeling uncomfortable. J'r the life of earth. Progressing still beyond a heav'nly birth, And, as creation qow before him stood, He looked on all he'd made, and called it good! Ages have rolled on ages since that hour, When once again appears th' Almighty Power,— Again that grand command: Lei there be light! And Bethleh'm's star breaks through tin' gloom of night. Man shall not die! Tin' sleep which we call death Shall find a waking with angelic breath. A solemn joy my yearning soul enthrills; My waning life has triumphed o'er its ills. I am well aware that I am giving a good deal of space to this saintly woman, but, nevertheless, I must make an extract from a letter written just one week before she passed away. To-day it seems fresh from her willing, trusting heart — from her very " heart of heart" — and we can not but see and feel the full measure of her unswerving faith : Monday, G P. M. April 26. My Precious Child:— * * * * It may not be too late for me to say t" you, if you have not done anything yet about the doctor, you need not. I am feeling somewhat differently to-day; I have much, very much to live for; but I can nol help accepting St. Paul's words: "To die is gain." I really feel so in my ease. I am ready and willing to go; and I do not feel that life is so desirable that I should shrink from submitting to the will of the good Father. Let it be as In- shall will. Surely, and from the depths of my quickened sense, I am willing to "go home, to die no more." Indeed, it has come to lie my desire that, if my health can not lie restored— and. Oh, I could enjoy it yet to live,— hut, if my good health can not be restored, then let me go home, to tin' "dear ones gone before." For health .and longer life I will praise the Lord; and. if he lias ordered it other- wise, I still can bless his holy name! The future is bright and beautiful: and in all the broad expanse— narrowing it may he. to the final sleep— there is no shadow of gloom. I know you will love your own dear mother all the same, be she here on earth, or with the ransomed of the beyond! I hle^> my children again, and again, and they will never cease to love Mother. And her beloved son adds: " Surely, of that aged mother, as of those little ones whom our Savior held hi his waiin embrace, it may be said, « Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.' " 54 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Toward the close of the scene, when it became evident that the end was approaching, during one of the visits of Sylvanus, Jr., the following occurred. Read it with interest, for it is her loving hoy's account of his visit, in the "New York Ledger:" "There are such things as saints on earth; and if mortals may ever be apotheosized, I see not why tbe apotheosis may not be given in life, as well as after they are dead and gone. Living saints, so recognized, might be a source of emulation to others. "Let me speak of one dear old Mother in Israel, who, I firmly belfeve, is drawing near to the shadowy vale with garments white as snow, I have known her many years, and know whereof I speak. Not long since I visited her — confined to a chamber which I fear she will never quit in the flesh. But she is ready for the transition, and waiting patiently the summons to join the loved ones on the other side ; willing to go — willing to stay, if it be the Father's will. The last time I saw her, I spoke of the purity of her life, as I had seen it. She shook her head, and feared there might have been short-comings, which my love had not seen. Yet she had tried. "Yes; she bad tried to keep the faith. And finally she took from her bosom a tiny silken bag, suspended from a button, and bade me see what it contained. One of her arms was paralyzed and powerless. I opened it, and found a little book of six leaves, three inches long by two inches wide, and in it written,— 'Rides of Life I Will Try to Live.' She told me she had worn that book in her bosom for many years. Every night, on retiring, she pressed it to her lips — 'Once for my husband in heaven; twice for my chil- dren; three times for all the rest of the world; then once more for myself.' And then she prayed to God for help. "I copied the rules she had there set down, some of them of. her own volition, and some derived from others. They are very simple, and you who can not sympathize with an aged mother, grown into the trusting, winsome childhood of life's evening, need not read them. Let me, however, premise that she had given her heart, in childlike love and trust, to her heavenly Redeemer many years before. Tims were the rules set down, in her own fair, nervous hand : (They are set down curiously as to order, but it is, probably, the way they occurred to her.) EUNICE HALE WAITE COBB. 55 Avoid repetition. Avoid loud talking:— surely. Avoid unfavorable remarks of any one. Avoid till unpleasant allusions. Avoid telling your own troubles. Avoid unnecessary complaining. Avoid all sarcasm. Flee from ill-tempered speech as from a venomous ser- pent. Avoid all fault finding. Avoid making unfavorable comparisons. Avoid interrupting others in conversation. Be careful to observe all proper rules of etiquette at table. Do not forget your glasses! Always take an extra pin! Be careful and look, before yon sit down, where you are to sit. Avoid putting your hand familiarly on another's person in conversation. Be careful what you say; where you say it, and how you say it. Avoid unnecessary conversation with strangers in public conveyances. Avoid putting anything in another's way. Avoid conversation by whispering, when another is speaking, singing or praying. Put things in their proper places when you are done with them. "And that is the list of rides of daily life as she had them set down. As I have before remarked, or hinted, the grand lessons of Christian life and living, those sublime precepts of the divine Master, as shadowed forth in the Sermon on the Mount, had been incorporated into her life in the years of long, long ago, before I had seen the light. With this in mind, I think we may regard the list as well chosen. I know it is simple; and so is till truth simple. In short, the Master was pleased to set up a little child as the type to be copied by those who would surely be worthy of his blessed king- dom. At all events, the incident was a pleasing one to me, and Grod grant it may be of profit to us all." One morning, some time before we were called to mourn, or rejoice, over the translation of this beatified spirit, Dr. J. (t. Adams called upon her "in that upper room," as she expressively called it, where he found the invalid in her evening of life contemplating the outlook upon the city and harbor, and the golden evening sky. It had lifted her heavenward, and she talked of the coming dissolution as though it were but the brushing away of a cloud. At his departure she said, with a beaming smile: — "Tell my friends I am waiting at the river, in joyful hope." Mrs. Cobb died at the residence of her son, George W. Cobb- Her obse- 56 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. qvues were attended by Eev. Drs. J. G. Adams and A. St. John Chambre, the latter a former pastor. Dr. Adams was eloquent in the recital of her Christian graces, and his words of sympathy to the friends. Dr. Chambre said that her life was " ' hid with Christ in God' ; and her chamber of illness was radiant with Christian hope and confidence, and peacefully as a child she went out from us. " From the "First Article" to the last, all the time, in every thought and in every aspiration, she was ever ready and willing to pass on to the brighter shore, for what is called death, was to her but the passing on to meet the loved ones gone before. To her death was "not so much as the lifting of a latch ; only a step out of a tent already luminous with light that shines through its transparent walls." The following is a beautiful picture of mother-love and tenderness. This good woman was noted for being careful not to wound the feelings of any human heart; and what was true of her in life, we may say was true unto death. Only two days before she closed her eyes upon the scenes of this world, her son saw her for the last time. She was so glad to see him, and for a few minutes talked lovingly and cheerfully, but finally she laid her head upon his shoulder, and said to him, with an infinite pathos, a tender, wistful longing, and a childlike trustfulness; — "Darling, I am homesick! T want to go home." And then, fearing he might think she wished to leave them, she added, with eagerness: — "You do not blame me, do you?" The last part of a private letter from her eldest son, Sylvanus, Jr., I will quote in full, and hope he will not think I have taken an unwarrantable liberty. It certainly must be read with interest, if not with profit, by every mother and son. He says: — "Through all her sickness (and her entire sense, keen and intact, never left her while she breathed), through it ah she con- templated the coming transition with a faith and trust that was unfailing, unshaken, sincere and heartfelt. In her 'heart of heart' she was ready and willing to go whenever it might please the good Father to call her home. That was the way she was pleased to speak of it always. 1 am writing of a mother whom I loved — whom I worshiped. Think of it! The Last time I held her living hand in mine, 1 could look back over more than half a century of clear and well-defined memory of my mother's life. I MARY CATHERINE TRAY. .57 was never a wrong-hearted hoy, but I was a bay, strong, vimmy, head- strong, and sometimes reckless. I gave that mother many, many seasons of anxiety and travail of soul. I had been wayward, and I had wandered; yet, in looking back over all the years of my mother's life, I can say this : She never struck me ; she never, never spoke to me a hasty, angry word — never! She never bent upon me an unkind, unloving look; she never, in short, spoke to me a word, or cast upon me a look which I could ever wish to forget, or to blot out! How many, at the age of seven-and-fifty, can say that? Do you wonder that I loved my mother? O, what a blessed thing to me is the memory I hold of her! We are told by the preachers of the day that no man can live and not sin. Such a belief is an outrage upon humanity and a slur upon the God who made us. I am happy in the belief that man, if he will, can hve without sin; and 1 shall always, while sense and memory are mine, cherish deep in my heart the blessed belief that my now sainted mother did, while a dweller on earth, walk her round of daily duties for many an hour and many a day — aye, for long, long seasons, without sin. She may have erred; that is human." "Glory!" was the last word that was heard from the lips of this saintly woman, responsive to the sweet music of the Sabbath morning bells, the solemn melody of which filled her chamber, and, as peacefully as a babe closes its eyes in slumber, she closed hers upon all that was earthly, and passed from that " upper room," into the Golden morning of the hereafter. MARY CATHERINE PRAY. Whose maiden name was Evans, was the wife of James B. Pray. She was born in Portsmouth, N. H., April 12, 180G. Mrs. Jane L. Patterson informs us that : — "When but a young girl she began to write verses. In look- ing over those which have been saved from the many which she w T rote, it is plain that her inspiration, in its largest measure, came from her faith in God and his purpose of good to the world. Almost every poem hymns his 58 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. praise, and portrays the exultation of her perfect living faith. In that pleas- ant home where she passed nearly all the years of her mortal life, and where she reared her family of three sons and two daughters, it was her custom to weave her rhymes while about her daily cares, and never commit them to paper until they were complete, a mental process requiring strength of memoiy which few possess. Not always did she write out her singing fan- cies. To her they were a personal resource, and she cared very little about seeing them in print. Few, even of the large circle of her friends, knew how apart from the daily cares in which she was engaged was the thought which upheld her, and the inner realm in which she revelled. Sometimes she sent her sympathy to mourning friends, or wrote a hymn for a church dedication, and in this way some of her poems were published: but by far the larger number were heart and home songs alone. "But Mrs. Pray, as one of our church workers, was always ready when any call reached her for help. Skillful with the needle, she wrought for the increase of the revenue in the Samaritan Society, and through its fairs, and deemed no offering of strength and time too precious to lay upon the altar of her faith. Few have loved their church more reverently and intensely than she. She gave it the devotion of a long and faithful life. Never absent from the Sunday services when it was possible to be present, she was indeed one who sat at her Master's feet in all humility, like Mary, while she remembered with equal fidelity to serve as did Martha. The long line of pastors, some of whom are alive at this time, and some have gone to the life immortal, had in Mrs. Pray a true and considerate friend. She took the minister at once into her friendship, and believed in him and listened to him as one who meant to find the good and pass lightly over all imperfection and fault. The gray-haired sage and the young man but j*st equipped in the Christian armor shared alike in her wide love and charity. The faith which they proclaimed was a bond of indissoluble union between their hearts and hers. The many ministers who have been entertained at her house remained as happy inmates of her memory, and became an inspir- ing circle of unseen spirits, to cheer the after days. "Hers was indeed a home of hospitality. Its doors were swung wide i pen to a large retinue of devoted friends, and its bountiful table, spread by MARY CATHERINE PRAY. 59 her own careful hands, was the center of unsparing labor as hostess and ( ntertainer. Of the multitudes who have gathered there, through the years, none will ever forget the cheerful grace with which she filled her sphere, or the delight which she always manifested in the presence and service of her friends. The void was widely felt when that social center became a thing of the past, through the translation of its life and light. "No picture of Mrs. Pray can be complete which fails to make manifest her wifely and motherly devotion. She lived in the love of her family in an eminent degree. Her husband, sons and daughters were so much a part of herself that her own life would have known incompleteness without them. When one of her daughters passed through weary months of illness to the other shore, though she was very quiet in her grief, and though she leaned upon the everlasting arm with a trust which death was powerless to disturb, she felt the absence keenly, as though some portion of her own being had been divided from her. "Among the sick of her neighborhood she was a wise and ready helper, giving her time and sympathy freely, and lighting the shadowy valley by the reflection of her sure faith in the life immortal. Of this life she had an inward assurance stronger than knowledge, of any of the places of this world. She saw its beautiful river, its tree of life, its happy angels, and Jesus, the Savior, sitting on the right hand of God. Her faith knew no wavering or temporary eclipse. Of earthly sorrows she had her portion, but any shadow of this world only brought out in clearer relief the exceeding glory of the world to come." We regret that we have space but for the following selection from her writings : THE HOME OF THE HEART. The home of the heart, where, oh, where is it found? Say where shall we seek it, above or around; In what clime, sphere or realm is this mansion so blest, Oh, where is the ark tor the dove to find rest? Is it found in affection? Too transient its joys; Affection's brighl blossoms time quickly destroys; Our dearest hopes perish, our loved ones depart; Then surely affection's no home for the heart. 60 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. In friendship? Ah, no, not the friendships of earth, Although this bright gem is of heavenly birth: Wealth brightens its lustre, there homage is paid, But soon it grows dim in adversity's shade. Where then shall we seek for this haven so blest? There sure is some home where the heart can find rest, Else why these soul-longings for something more pure, That the world can not give, that will ever endure. Oh, yes, there's a bright clime, a bright world of joy, Where love's blossoms fade not, nor death run destroy, Where the pure and the good their sweet influence impart; In the friendship of heaven is the home of the heart. There the sad heart will rest from its sorrow and pain, And the glad heart, its blissful emotions retain; There the cold heart be Avarmed by the joys of the blest, And the fond in the spirit of sympathy rest. This Christian woman lived to the age of seventy-three years, and died Nov. 14, 1879. We will close the memorial of this faithful life with the following on that expression of the Savior's divine self- surrender, "The cup which my father gives me, shall I not drink it?" Dear Savior, when the dews of death Are gently gathering on my brow, And faint and few the pulses beat, And life's swift stream is ebbing low, Sustained by thy example then, May I from pain nor suffering shrink, But take the cup my father fills, And drink, without a murmur, drink. FRANCES DANA GAGE Was one of the great forces of the nineteenth century. Eminent in the literary world, and rich in all womanly endowments, she was one of the prin- cipal of the many who aided in the work of reform during the dark times of the nation's peril. Frances Dana Barker was hom in Union, Washington Co., Ohio, Oct. FRANCES DANA GAGE. 61 12, 1808. Her parents, Joseph and Elizabeth (Dana) Barker, were from New Hampshire, and were twenty years before among the early pioneers of the West. Her father was a farmer and cooper, and the daughter was early inured to the tasks that occupied her father's hands in the new country. She acquired the rudiments of an education in a rude log cabin in the woods. At the age of 21, Jan. 1, 182J), Frances Dana Barkerwas married to James L. Gage, of McConnellsville (Ohio), a lawyer, and an earnest abolitionist, whose principles she had adopted. Engrossed with family cans, having been the mother of eight children, she became, notwithstanding, a great student, and contributed to many journals stirring articles on temperance, anti-slavery, and the rights of woman. In 1853 she removed to St. Louis, Mo., and with her constitutional fearlessness she bearded the lion of slavery in his den. The penalty of those days was social ostracism, with threats of violence and destruction of property. Her husband's illness compelled her removal to Columbus, Ohio, where she edited an agricultural paper, but the war de- stroyed its circulation, and her mind was directed to the great events tran- spiring in the South. Four of her sons had entered the union army, and in 1802 she went to Port Royal to look after the welfare of the soldiers. She labored with tremendous energies among the soldiers and freedmen in Beau- fort, Paris and Fernandina, and proved herself to be a genuine sister of char- ity. Seeing so much to be done she turned her steps to the North to engage the zeal of others in the great work which she saw must be done. Without remuneration she went from city to city, organizing and addressing aid socie- ties. She went South again as the agent of the Sanitary Commission, and visited Memphis, Vicksburg, Natchez, and other places. In September she was crippled by the upsetting of a carriage in Galesburg, 111. She began her philanthropic labors on her recovery, and was a vigilant laborer in the cause of temperance when her activity was ended by a stroke of paralysis in August, 1867. Mrs. Gage has been a voluminous writer. Over the signature "Aunt Fanny" she wrote sketches, stories and poems of great popularity. "'Klsie Magoon" is a temperance story of great interest. "The Saturday Visitor," edited by Jane Swisshelm, the "New York Independent," " Ladies Reposi- tory," and other publications have been enriched by her vigorous and versatile 62 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. pen. Few men or women exerted a wider or better influence during her useful life, than this earnest and loving philanthropist, whose level head and warm heart were impelled by the generous religious faith she cherished and pro- fessed. Her own words are, " Temperance, freedom, justice to the negro, justice to women, are but parts of one great whole, one mighty temple whose builder and maker is God." The name of Frances Dana Gage will forever stand among the noble, faith- ful women of the first century of the American republic. She writes to us under date of June 2, 1881: "Yours of yesterday is in my hands to-day, and as my invalidism makes me feel that it is not wise for me to put off till to-morrow what should be, or may be done to-day, 1 rise from my bed to answer your note. I was born in Ohio, almost in the wilderness, seventy-three years ago. Nearly all my friends were orthodox believers except my father and mother and one brother. I never could accept the belief or doctrine of total depravity or of special providence, or the pow- er of any being by prayer to move the universe, or any having right to do so if he could. Consequently I was led into association with the Universalists, more as a disbeliever in the doctrine of eternal punishment than any fixed faith. My home, after my marriage with James L. Gage, who was a friend of Stephen E. Smith, of New York, became the home of traveling preachers- of that liberal faith. Father Stacy, Father Kidwell, Strong, Jolley, Davis, Sadler, George Rogers, Woodworth, Biddlecome, Billings, Flanders, and many others whose names are forgotten, were our guests for days, weeks and even months. " But there came a time when they refused to go with me as an abolitionist, ;in advocate for the rights of women, or earnest temperance pleaders. Then it came to me that Christ's death as an atonement for sinners was not truth, but he had died for what he believed to be truth. Then came the war, then trouble, then paralysis, and for fourteen years I have not listened to a sermon because I am too great a cripple. I have read much, thought much, and feel that life is too precious to be given to doctrines. I feel at ease about the future, and ask my soul as did Whittier, "<>i what's i<> be or what is done Wliv Miicficsi thou, Enara - ^z^ JULIA H. SCOTT. 68 The past and th<' to be are one, And that is now." "I have no pros, no cons about it, know nothing nor seek to know. ] don't think you can truthfully call me anything Imt a believer that all is well." The following is a favorable specimen of her style : DARE TO STAND ALONE, lie hold, )><> linn, be strong, be true, And dare to stand alone. Strike for the right, whate'er ye do, Though helpers there be none. Oh! bend not to the swelling surge Of popular crime and wrong, 'Twill bear thee on to ruin's verge With current wild and strong. Strike for the right, tho' falsehood rail And proud lips coldly sneer: A poisoned arrow can not wound A conscience pure and clear. Strike for the right, and with clean hands Exalt tln> truth on high, Thou'lt And warm, sympathizing hearts Anions; the passers by. Those who have thought, and felt, and prayed. Yet could not singly dare The battle's brunt; hut by thy side Will every danger share. Strike for the right, uphold the truth; Thou'lt lind an answering tone In honest hearts, and soon no more lie left to stand alone. JULIA H. SCOTT.* Caroline M. Sawyer, in her excellent biography of Mrs Scott, truly says: "A nobler example of devotion to religious principles, of never-sleeping effort ♦Julia Scott's Life and Poems arc published in a line volume by t he Universal- is! Publishing House, edited by Mrs, c. y\. Sawyer. The facts and recollections in this book arc from that work. 64 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. to sustain, both by precept and example, the doctrine of her Savior, we be- lieve can scarcely be found ; and it is our great desire and prayer to God that that example, however imperfectly it may be presented, may perform its legiti- mate work by leading many others of our sex to the same devotion to God, the same love to our Savior, and the same overmastering desire to live the life of a Christian woman, that rilled and animated her." Julia H. Kinney was born in Sheshequin, Penn., Nov. 4, 1801), the eld- est of a family of nine children. She was fortunate in passing her childhood and youth amid scenes as beautiful as earth contains. Mrs. Sawyer charm- ingly describes the locality from personal observation: "Far away from the confused and noisy world, embowered like some sweet picture in the depths of a gigantic emerald vase, lies the charming valley of Sheshequin, hidden among the beautiful Alleghenies. The northern branch of the noble Sus- quehanna, with many a green island sleeping on its breast, pursues its tran- quil course through the valley, while all around, on the north, the east, the south, yea, on the west also, meet towering mountains, which, lifting their shaggy heads above the clouds, seem to shut out the whole world. Never did nature more fully realize the description of Johnson's 'Happy Valley,' than in this little mountain fastness. It is but a strip of intervale of the richest soil, scarcely two miles in width at its widest point, and six or seven miles in length; and like the 'Happy Valley,' permitting ingress and egress only at the narrow gorges where the river itself has broken its jagged way through the mountains." When but four years of age, her father was stricken with blindness, and it became the duty of his little daughter to conduct him by the hand from place to place, a habit that became a second nature to the darling child, who learned much from the outward world while performing tins weary task. As she grew older, she became interested in books, and easily learned the rudi- ments of an education from the common school, but the marvelous beauty amid which she moved was photographed on her mind; and a passionate love for all natural objects s^ave to heart and spirit a precocious development. For years her sole reading was the Bible and Bums. With these hooks in hand she sought the many lovely spots about her dwelling, and the sights and sounds of nature mingled with what she saw and read, and she grew JULIA II. SCOTT. 66 mentally and spiritually with each succeeding year. The body sympathized with the spirit, and the chubby incarnation of health grew into a slender woman, whose lustrous, soulful eyes expressed the imaginative poet. At the early age of twelve she became a contributor to the Philadelphia "Casket" and the New York " Saturday Evening Post," and from this date onward her writings for the press were frequent and copious. In January, 1820, a Universalist paper, called the "Candid Examiner," was started in Montrose, Penn., and during the two years of its existence, Julia, then sixteen, frequently wrote for it. Her articles were imbued with a deep religious spirit; indeed, the then new and rising faith in universal sal- vation was embraced by her with all the ardor of her enthusiastic nature. It was the religious faith of her home, which she had inherited from her honored father and beloved mother, and which found a congenial soil in her blight intellect and affectionate heart. In 1831, when she was twenty-two years old, she was brought to the notice of Rev. A. B. Grosh, the then editor of " The Magazine and Advocate,"' and at his request she began to write for his paper. It is impossible to real- ize to-day the impression that was created among our people by the appear- ance of her poems. Our ministers were few, and were under continual war- fare with opponents from all quarters. The doctrines they advocated were hated with a relish, "despised and rejected of men," and as her sweet voice was heard, singing in fitting strains the new gospel, it seemed to them as though an angel were encouraging them in their arduous, but loving duty to defend nobly Christ's cause. She was hailed as an "angel helper." It was as when the army of France was well-nigh overwhelmed by its enemies, and the beautiful Joan Dare rallied them to victory over their foes. Stephen R. Smith, A. B. Grosh, A. C. Thomas, T. B. Thayer, and a few others, mostly youn^ r men who have since immortalized their names in our church, were cheered by her advent to new efforts. Mrs. Sawyer describes the joyful ex- citement that seized her, and that pervaded our few struggling and gallant men and women, as the letters " J. H. K." appeared attached to her inspiring poems. " Julia " came to be a beloved name wherever our people were found. A contemporary minister is quoted by Mrs. Sawyer as Baying: "It was at the season of ministerial trials and privations of which 1 66 OUK WOMAN WORKERS. have spoken, and 'J. H. K. appeared as a co-worker with the little band of religious reformers who gave themselves with such untiring devotion to the cause of their crucified Redeemer, as heralds of unlimited salvation. Although the views cherished were so congenial to the heart of woman, and so likely to be embraced with aU the fondness and attachment peculiar to the female heart, yet the reproach and calumny that prejudice and persecu- tion at that time threw round the profession of such faith, were highly cal- culated to deter the gentle and retiring spirit from giving public countenance to doctrines that would involve repudiation from certain classes of society, and limit sociahty to a proscribed few of corresponding views. Under such circumstances, the noble stand taken by Julia H. Kinney seemed to elevate her above her sex. By the young servants of the cross she was regarded as an angel helper, whose smile of approval would encourage to renewed efforts, and as a moral heroine that merited the sympathy and friendliness of all the household of believers. To them she was like Martha and Mary to our blessed Lord, when he labored and suffered and died for a sinful world." In response to the suggestion that she could lighten the sorrows of the world by singing her precious faith, she wrote: To be able, in any way. to benefit, interest, or even amuse, any of the weary beings thai toil their way through this "vale of tears," whether our efforts are known ami appreciated or not, whether we live within the halo of fame, or sink beneath the pall of obscurity: but to have it in our power to wipe one tear from the cheek of the despondent, to cast one ray of light upon the haggard features <>f misery, oh. the individual who would not. at this gladdening prospect, feci a deep glow of gratitude for the power and the warm promptings of ambition to put it in exercise, must possess a heart colder than the misanthrope, an imagination which nothing can rouse! Anil is this power mine? Tin 1 bare idea of its possi- bility has gilded the dark image- of lite with a glow which they never wore to me before. What would be toil and privation? How would these small considerations sink into insignilica when contrasted with the rich, the ample reward of feeding that our efforts have met with success, and that those efforts were impelled by disinterested benevolence! Should F ever, through the emanations of my yet unex- perienced pen. reap this sweet harvest of perseverance, 1 should then remember a, few encouraging words Prom Brother r an instant caught my eye, but is indelibly pictured in memory. I shall remember them all, a hun- dred years hence, in heaven. "The Last Conference" perpetuates the Convention in her sacred rhymes. THE LAST CONFERENCE. I saw a glorious multitude Bow down in worship there; While lips, at heaven's own altar fired, Si'iit up the glowing prayer; And hymns of lofty praise were sung. In stirring airs of <>iil; While love's white banner waved aloft, In many a silken fold. I saw the eye, grown dim with years, Flash forth unearthly light; JULIA H. SCOTT. (jf earthly kings, Not thine their empty pomp and poor renown. S\EAH KDGAKTON MAYO. 97 But with thy goodness the empyrean rings. Love is thy seepter, Love thy glorious crown; While earthly thrones return to dusl again, Thine shall endure forever more. Amen! C. A. J. LUTHEK, Twas night, black night, o'er Christendom, And denser nighl within men's souls; Thought slumbered in a human tomb. And truth lay hid in dusty scrolls. A voice rose clear, amid the gloom And silence of tins awful night; A voice that rent the bolted tomb. And called the mouldering dead to light. A voice sublime, yet calm and sweet, Was heard along the cloistered aisles; It echoed through the crowded street, And shook the old cathedral piles. It was the voice of one who long Had crouched beneath the papal rod; He rose at last, sublime and strong. The Champion of the Word of God! Rome shook her sceptered arm in wrath. And threw her snares along his way; He swept them lightly from Lis path— A giant with a thread at play. Truth, mighty in his soul, spake out, And Error with her midnight train. Blind Superstition, Fear, and Doubt, Fell, ne'er to rise so strong again! When papal thunders shook the sky, And hurled their red holts at his head. He raised the Word of Cod on high, And shining helms were 'round him spread. When proud philosophy, with sneers Upon his holy "Theses" trod, He poured within its startled ears The wisdom of the Word of God. Old monks i red out from gloomy cells. And raised their cowls in mute surprise; 98 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Fair nuns forgot their vesper bells. And hope shone in their sweet young eyes. The priests, like hissing serpents, spat Their harmless venom in his face; But at his feet poor sinners sat, And wept to hear him talk of grace. Young men, with true and earnest hearts. Gazed on him with adoring eyes. And left the lore of human arts To learn the wisdom of the skies. The stream of Truth ran freely forth, And swept the cloister walls away; Young vestals learned the love of earth, And loving, better learned to pray. Such fruits the great Reformer saw Hang clustering on his planted tree; And though condemned by human law, He felt himself in Christ made fre'e. His was the lesson deep ingrained Within the tablature of life— That freedom of the soul is gained Alone through battle and through strife. Oh, be his holy lessons ours! Let us pursue the path he trod. And prove, in face of human powers, Bold champions of the Word of God! CHARLOTTE A. JERAULD. "Charlotte," as she was affectionately called by the readers among our people twenty-five years ago, was one of the five or six of the most popular of the women who at that time contributed to make our literature attractive. Her maiden name was Fillebrown, and she was horn in Cambridge, Mass., April 16, 1820. The home of her parents, Kichard and Charlotte, was near Harvard University at the time of her birth, but in early childhood CHARLOTTE A. JERAULD. 99 they removed to Boston, where she obtained an excellent education in the common schools of the city, and at a very early age evinced a remarkahle aptness for "compositions." They were so excellent that the teacher thought she was shining in borrowed jewels, and, to test her, gave her a subject and a certain length of time to write a certain number of verses. Charlotte's indignation was aroused, and with a defiant pride she took the stint, and more than accomplished it. Her school was visited one day by Daniel Webster and Henry Clay. The teacher read some of the compositions and the honorable gentlemen requested , that the writer of one be pointed out to them. It proved to be Charlotte; an introduction was asked and favored; both gentlemen complimented her, and Mr. Clay said, "I wish you were a boy; I would make a statesman of you." Charlotte and her father were very faithful friends ; he seemed to fully realize what nature had done for hjs child, and she was his pride. She loved him in return most faithfully, and she was full of heart, and in sym- pathy with and eloquent for all in distress. Although but nine years old when her father died, she fainted. At the age of fifteen years she was compelled to support herself by toil, and her preference was to go where she could have something to do with books, and consequently she entered a book-bindery, and it proved to be the place where the "Ladies, Repository" was bound, and owing to this fact, perhaps, her first essay for publication was sent to that periodical. Rev. Henry Bacon, in his memoir of Charlotte, describes the beginning of her literary life in the following way, "We availed ourself of the first opportunity to introduce ourself to the discovered 'Charlotte,' to whom, through the 'Repository,' we had said many encouraging things. We had felt a religious interest in her, from discovering that, while unknown to us, she had attended public worship wherever we chanced to officiate in Boston or its immediate vicinity. We first met her in the bindery, engaged busily in folding 'signatures' of the 'Repository,' and were charmed with the per- fect simplicity of her deportment. She lost no time, at our request, in folding, while we conversed, and the unpretending frankness of her speech and look let us at once into her estimable character. We saw then what was more clearly revealed in after time, that the cheerful and vivacious 100 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. aspect which she wore was but as the stream that, sparkling, flows above the deep arid strong river, holding its course steadily to the solemn sea. Her conversation was the speech of one who would be agreeable to her friends, that friendly feeling might increase, but which, at the same time, had a vein of deep thoughtfulness that made known the richness of the interior charac- ter. She felt aspirings that she could not gratify. She was environed with the necessity to toil, and toil brought wearine&s, and weariness unfitted the mind for intellectual effort when it would fain struggle and be free. The beautiful inducements flowing out of the pride which others take in the efforts of the one they deem 'gifted,' and to whom they would give every facility to develop their talent, were not hers. Few, very few, who imagine their lot hard, and no opportunities afforded them to be 'anything' are less favored than was she when she fixed her purpose and made her first efforts. She had the character that ventures where the soul points the way." A very warm friendship at once sprang up between her and Sarah Edgarton, between whom and herself close affinities existed, and a life-long correspondence ensued, a beautiful illustration of which is the sonnets on the Lord's Prayer, written by them alternately. We know of nothing in our lit- erature on that great topic finer than these splendid strains. In 1841 Charlotte published her first prose, a pleasing story — "Emma Beaumont." Soon after appeared "Margaret Leslie," a story which, Sarah Edgarton said, "almost cheated her into the belief that the plot was real, which is a proof of no ordinary skill." In 1842 she passed a week in Lowell, with Miss Edgarton, at the home of that rare man, who combines the poet and critic, the philosopher and the theologian, the genial wit and the tender Christian as they are rarely com- bined in one organization — Thomas Baldwin Thayer, and here she enjoyed her first communion, which she thus commemorated: THE FIRST COMMUNION. The table of the Crucified, the Messed Lord, whs sot, And round the sacred board the few, the well beloved, were met: While iln- young herald of the Cross, with earnest voice and eye. Told how the Son of God was born to suffer and to die! Be spake, in deeply moving tones, of dark Gethsemane, \nd Kadi' : i i^ listeners behold the Mount ,>f Calvary: CHARLOTTE A. JERAULD. 101 And. as the fearful Bcenes arose, their eycB with tears grow dim, And each believing heart was stirred with sympathy for him. The old, with deeply furrowed cheek and silver Locks, were there; The brightly b'eamiug eye of youth, the pale, wan cheek of care; The sinful came, with quaking heart, bul met no withering frown, And at the feet Of Jesus laid their heavy burthens down. And one there w S amid the group, who ne'er had dared before With Christians to commemorate the sufferings Jesus bore; Although her spirit long had yearned, amid its deepest night, To burst the iron doors of sin and hail the glorious light. The maiden was not one to whom the flatterer paid his vow. For beauty ne'er had shed its Light upon her dark, sad brow; Her voice had naught of music, and her step was void of grace, And genius added not a charm to that unlovely face. But, oh! she had a loving heart, that mourned, although in vain, To see its wealth, poured freely forth, return unblessed again; And so, with bowed and contrite soul— to him an offering sweet- She laid its priceless treasure down at her Redeemer's feet! Much of the development of her genius was due to the influence of Eev. Henry Bacon, whose appreciative biography describes her beautiful life in fitting terms. Nov. 19, 1843, she was married to J. W. Jerauld, and subsequently she divided her time between domestic cares and literary pursuits, producing most of the stories, sketches and poems found in the volume "Poetry and Prose, by Mrs. Charlotte A. Jerauld, with a memoir by Henry Bacon, Bos- ton. A. Tompkins, 38 Cornhill, 1860," which first appeared in the "Reposi- tory" and "Rose of Sharon." On the last week of July, 1845, her child was born; on the third day after her mind wandered, and in a few hours she became a raving maniac. Her child died August 1st, and Charlotte followed on the 2d. On the suc- ceeding Sabbath she was buried from Warren -street Church, Revs. Hosea Ballou, Sebastian Streeter, and Otis A. Skinner, officiating. Her body reposes in Mt. Auburn. Such are the brief outlines of a rare and beautiful life, that exhaled from earth at the early age of twenty-five, having made a lasting record in those few brief years. A rich harvest for the great Reaper! Rev. Henry Bacon, who knew the writer intimately, and who, possess- 102 OUR WO MAM WORKERS. mg a rare psychological insight, was thoroughly competent to analyze her character, thus describes her: "Charlotte hved to love. Her fondest wish was to be loved by the estima- ble and the good, and one of the chief sorrows of her life was the fear that she appeared frivolous to those whose love coidd be won only by that depth of char- acter to which gayety was but as the foam of the wave to the sea. Her keen sense of the ludicrous was regarded by her as her 'evil genius.' It was active eveiywhere, and yet was accompanied by the most profound reverence for things holy, and appreciation of things beautiful. Such a union is not com- mon, and we must vindicate it ere we enter upon the memoir. The merriest things have been written and said when the intensest pain was felt, and the deepest melancholy was on the soul. This vein was rich in our friend Char- lotte, but it never threw a richness of humor over anything bad. It poured out its affluence as a bird sings, as a brook glitters, as the phosphorescence of the sea charms the voyager; but as that bird could fly heavenward, and that brook held its course to the river, and that phosphorescence took nothing from the majesty and glory of the sea, so the mind and heart of Charlotte possessed the loftier and holier tendencies. Throughout her diversified correspondence, gayety of thought and feeling is met, wit sparkles and glitters ; but never does it minister to malicious feeling or ungenerous criticism. It is a play of words that adds to the garden its butterflies, to the mill-stream its foamy brilliants. Such a restraint of a spontaneous power is as fine an inlet to character as any revelation can give; for as we read of Jesus, he is known by his silence as well as by his speech. There is a weakness of character where fitness of time and occasion is not thought of in indulging wit and humor; there is strength when the proper restraint is continuously imposed. "A new existence now dawned on Charlotte. She was brought into a society she was fitted to ornament and enjoy. Acquaintance ripened speed- ily into friendship, and friendship partook of the best elements of perpetuity. She felt what a world of feeling, sympathy and aspiration lies hidden within the soul, waiting the bidding of the appropriate power to call it forth. Timid, weighed down by the small estimate she formed of herself, and look- ing with an artist's eye on superior works in the line of her efforts, she needed the help of natures on which she could lean in trustfulness, and to CHARLOTTE A. JERAULD. 108 which she could look up for confidence. To feel that ours is the friendship of the wise and good — to find them opening to us the rich stores of their well- freighted minds, as though we could appreciate the treasures they presented — gives to the shrinking and fearful a confidence in themselves hy making them feel the powers thus addressed. It whs thus with her. She had friends she reverenced. They were to her the wise and good. She felt the inlluence of their presence, their conversation, their letters. Instinctively her nature was richly developed, and ere she hardly knew of the change, she was intimate with them, and poured out the affluence of her soul with per- fect and beautiful frankness and simplicity. She won upon her friends by this perfect freedom from affectation. She greatly disliked everything that bore any likeness to affected speech or manner; and nothing excited more overwhelmingly the sense of the ludicrous than the mask of ceremony worn where simple nature should only be seen. No matter where the mockery was seen, whether at church or in the parlor, incongruities were ludicrous ; and we may be sure that in this case a true sense of the absurd was accompanied by an acute perception of order and harmony. Not lightness of feeling, but because of a profound reverence for religion, she was moved to irresistible mirth whenever stiff and starched ceremony came where only nature belonged." Sarah C. E. Mayo thus describes her friend: "She wrote, not from liter- ary ambition, but from an overfull heart, as a bird sings, or a lamb sports, and' scattered her melodies As an oak looseneth its golden leaves In kindly Largess to tin- soil it grew on. Poetry w r as to her the green tree under which she rested after her daily toils. She gathered no fruit from its boughs, but, listening with charmed ear to murmuring strains amid its foliage, her spirit caught the melody and warbled it aloud. Considering Charlotte's poetry, then, as a spontaneous thing upon which she had bestowed no culture, and from which she expected no fruits, it would be in bad taste to apply to it any other than the simplest aesthetic rules. Was it pure? Was it simple? Was it true'.' There can be but one answer. Sketched she a little cottage, how clearly it stood out upon the landscape, with its mossy roof and overhanging elms. Was an old country 101 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. well her theme, how temptingly trickled the clear drops over the hrim of its mossy bucket. And those fair young cottage maidens, all after Goethe's pat- tern were they, with their clear blue eyes, pure, loving hearts, and gay, ring- ing laughter. "Her stories are written with much colloquial ease, and evince a talent which by cultivation might have insured her an honorable place among the story writers of the day. Her heroines are not all run in one niould. Lucy Murray, Margaret Leslie, Isadore De Vaux, are not three reflections of the same woman ; they do not run together like raindrops, but preserve an indi- vidual character. "Her poetry is simple, tender, and full of delicate rural pictures. In many of her poems she has displayed gushings of tenderness. It is a ten- derness touched with pity — a pathos that melts, but does not rend our hearts." Miss Edgarton says: "We count among the freshest and sweetest of her poems the dewy httle stanzas, — 'Violets.' " We quote but the closing three: Pretty, modest violets, Many a damsel twists Your glistening amethysts. Amid the rich luxuriant tresses Which the soft South wind caresses, In his sportive play. Fairest of the flowers Nursed by April showers, When the long green grass shall wave Luxuriant o'er my lowly grave, Shed your perfume there! Pretty, purple violets, Soft, low-breathing violets, I shall hear, at twilight dim. The chiming cadence of your hymn. Lulling me to rest! Such is the character of "Carrie" and "Clara," "The Old Wife to her Husband," and " The Hying Wife to her Husband," this last a beautiful poem, and prophetic of her own fate. Mr. Bacon thus closes his sketch of this gifted woman: "Poor, obscure, HARRIET (i. PERRY. 105 required to toil, having but the limited advantages of education which are secured to the humblest, she put forth her powers timidly, hut successfully, as the Russian violet springs up amid the frozen soil; and when sickness prostrated her energies, just as she was beginning to make better efforts, she murmured not, and only asked to have her pining for the sight of flowers and for the breath of the sweet-scented field answered. God's gift was better than she prayed for. She is now to us a memory and a hope." From the volume compiled by Mr. Bacon we select the following poem : WE HAVE BEEN Fit I ENDS TOGETHER. We have been friends together, in happy days lang syne; My heart has felt thy sorrows, anil thou hast shared in mine; But nf human love Its Incense to our lives imparts; When health ami wealth and friends are ours, And love and joy our steps attend, Oh, then, how easily we trace The hand which doth such blessings send. HARRIET G. FERRY. 100 But let a wasting sickness come, To pale the chi'i'k ami dim tlio eye— jiifi all the streams of life run low, Ami sadly whisper, "Thou must, die!" Lot poverty With ruthless wand Our golden idols turn to dust — Lot slander aim its cruel darts, 'Till we no human soul ran trust- Let health, ami wraith, and joy depart, And love in kindred hearts grow chill, Still will we trust and numbly say God works through all his perfecl will! Aye! God ran turn thy day to eight! But night with him is like the day; Tis out of furs he maketh friends; And both to him shall honor pay* Through changeful mediums he conducts The changeless good thou seest afar! Ask nut all light- enough to know His darkness never paled a star! Eternal Father! help thy child Thro' earth-born mists to see thee still! To know through ill thou makest good. For thou art Love! "Love works no ill." A LEAF FROM MY EXPERIENCE. I know not how if is with others, hut I And the extreme heat of Summer unfavorable to mental labor. The mind is not inactive, hut it larks the power to condense and arrange, or to fix itself upon anything. Life becomes like a pano- rama, or rather a succession of dissolving views. Visions of the past come ami go, visions of the future mingle with the past, and even the present seems dreamy and unreal. With the mind in this state, it would he impossible to write anything hut a, "Medley." Here and there, however, a, page of the past stands out in such pr inence as to have become a fixture, and the mind finds it always condensed ami arranged beyond the possibility of change. I ran turn to many such pages in my life-experience, one of which if you will allow the egotism— I will transcribe. It was in the Summer of 1841; three dear "little ones" blessed my home with the light of their winsome ways, with the joy of their innocent prattle. Being a zealous religionist, and a believer in the limitarian theology, ami feeling all the responsibility a mother could feel for the safety ami well-being of those dearer to her than life, I strove amid hopes and fears to lead them to Christ ami to God; and as they kneeled around me, ami. Looking up into my face, said, "Our Father" ami other little prayers, I really supposed I was leading them unto him who gave thrni to nir; to the true God and Father. Ah! how little did I know that they were silently, yet surely, leading me instead! Ah! those terrible misgivings which would come, as I gazed with love unut- terable upon them —that I hail been instrumental in giving them an existence 110 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. which might— and probably would, to some of them— prove an endless curse! while love grew with each added day, until it seemed that all my heart-strings were clasped in their little dimpled hands. Oh, how vainly did I strive to evade the thought of the terrible responsibility of a mother's position in the face of even a doubt of life's final issues. I pity the mother who feels what I then felt, and pity her all tire more who —believing thus —could feel less; such experiences as that taught me that such a faith destroys all the rich blessings of maternity, and turns the noblest joys of life into a present and prospective curse. Once convinced of the wrong, and my nature would not let me rest until satisfaction in regard to it was obtained; and with such agonizing fears for the darli: gs who were ever with me, you will not wonder that my search was honest and earnest to find where the error lay; and thanks be to God, I did not seek in vain! Praise to his holy name that he commissioned the "little ones" to lead me to a knowledge of himself. While in this frame of mind, seeking and praying for light, I attended church (the M. E. Church, of which I was a member), and heard a sermon upon the par- able of the "Rich Man and Lazarus." The preacher did not allow a parabolic, but gave it a strictly literal interpretation; spoke of the nearness of hell and heaven, of the groans made in the one being heard in the ether, and vice versa; in short, he showed me the creed I had accepted from childhood in its true light. I had often heard this before, but now, weak in body and worn in spirit, I could not endure it; I wept during th i entire service. At the close a good sister took my hand, and, with astonishment in every featur ', begged to know what troubled me? She ought to have been more astonished had I been tearless. "The sermon," said I; "and, dear sister, if what we have heard be true, I have no motive left to induce me to strive to attain heaven, for I see no choice between the two places; I never could be happy in either." She did not attempt to console me. How could she! Returning home, I sent to a friend, who was a Universalist, and bor- rowed "Ballou on the Parables," just to read his interpretation of this one, but I did read the whole book. The morning dawned, not yet wholly free from the mists and fogs of error, but destined to grow brighter and fairer to the perfect day. A new singniflcance to life, to all life was given; and, if I could, how gladly would I tell to any mother the difference in the joy, the bliss, with which \ I embraced the next cherub which came to my home! I welcomed it to the earth as to a home prepared by a loving Father, welcomed it to the love of my own unbound nature, and welcomed it to a life which was to prove an endless blessing. It was lint a short earthly life to which it was welcomed, however, for I was soon called t" part with it, ami also with another, a, sweet child of two years. It was a severe trial, but I felt how seasonably the blessing of a now faith had been given Dae, and its support was "sufficient for me"; death itself now was better than life had been without it. How could I murmur? Love, too, had a new signifi- cance; before, it was bound; now, it was right to give it free course. No true love was idolatry now, and it grew at once into its immortal nature, and assumed its Infinite proportions, and need never be suppressed, as if only led directly to the God of Love. I knew now that loved ones were mine in any world where my love could reach them. Since that time trials have seemed small, because of the greatness of hope, of faith, of joy; for though my sky be overcast with clouds, I feel "That every cloud that spreads ahove And . eiletli love, itself is love." ELIZABETH LOUISA MATHER. Ill ELIZABETH LOUISA MATHER. The maiden name of this charming lady was Foster, and she was bom in East Haddam, Conn., Jan. 7, 1815. She is from a highly respectable family, and is on her maternal side a relative of Mrs. Abel C. Thomas. She was baptized in the Episcopal Church, of which her parents were members, and at the proper age was confirmed. June 18, 1837, she was married to E. W. Mather, of East Haddam, Conn. Her grandfather, Joel Foster, A. M., had a controversy with Eev. Hosea Ballou when the latter was a young man. Her father came from Massachusetts, and settled in Connecticut in 1809 or 1810. The family traces its descent from Miles Standish, the Puritan cap- tain of Plymouth, on the father's side; on her husband's side to Richard Mather, the common ancestor of ah the Mathers in this country. Her hus- band's father became a Universalist in his old age, and was excommunicated from the Congregational Church on that account. They lived in Millington Society, which is the eastern part of East Haddam, from 1837 to 1853, thence moving to East Haddam Landing, on the east bank of the Connecticut River. In both places occasional meetings were held in schoolhouses and halls, where Revs. H. Chaffee, J. Shrigley, S. C. Bulkeley, W. A. Stickney and, last of all, Father Abraham Norwood preached. In the early days of her mar- riage her husband took the "Universalist Union," and the writings of Mrs. Julia H. Scott arrested her attention, and she became a convert to the faith of the world's salvation. She writes me at the age of sixty-seven: "How glorious are the pictures which memory brings before me in these later years, when my tired feet are going down life's western hillside, and the sands in my hour-glass are passing swiftly on! How I welcomed the ' Repository ' to my humble home ; how eagerly I read the writings of Mrs. Scott, Mrs. Jerauld, Mrs. Mayo, Mrs. Sawyer, Mrs. Livermore, Mrs. Monroe, Mrs. Soule, Anna M. Bates, and Miss Remick; how r dear even as household names are those of Chapin, Bacon, Sawyer, Thomas, Ballou, and Whitte- more — how I longed to listen to their utterances! "There was no liberal church nearer than Middletown, which was more 112 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. than twenty miles away. I have attended only two general conventions of our faith, one holden at Hartford, Conn., September, 1847, where I saw Father Ballon, Bros. Greenwood, Bacon, Tompkins arid several others. What days those were ! I could scarcely eat or sleep, in my great joy of look- ing and hstening. What a ' feast of fat things ' was spread before us ; what an unfailing fountain of love ineffable ; what unsounded deeps of consolation, joy and peace ! We also went to the General Convention at Middletown, Conn., in September, 1855. There I grasped Bro. Whittemore's hand, and Bro. Chapin's. Long and tenderly to be remembered are the incidents of that blissful time. It is a well-spring of pleasure to look back on those far- away times, when was fully revealed to my waiting spirit 'Our Father,' whose name is Love ! To sum it up, I have had but few opportunities to hear liberal preaching; have never had the opportunity to connect myself with the Universalist Church, or to have acquaintance with but very few professing that faith; although, at different periods, I have corresponded with those of that faith — a few dear ones. Mrs. Perry was my correspondent from the time of my first acquaintance until her death — a peiiod of thirty- three years — half of my life ! I am but watching and waiting to go to her. In lieu of actual acquaintance, what comfort I took in writing for the 'Uni- versalist Union,' the 'Ambassador,' the 'Trumpet' and the 'Repository.' Living in an out-of-the-way place, as Milhngton is, how I welcomed the de- nominational papers ! Doing all of my household work of all kinds, I, of course, had but little time for reviewing or elaborating my productions. How well I remember receiving a letter from Mrs. Livermore, inviting me to write for the ' Lily of the Valley.' I had but two days to do a fortnight's washing, to iron, bake, compose, copy and get my poem off. Of course my productions were mediocre, but they seemed to make me one of the house- hold of faith which I so loved — they drew me, ;is it were, into the charmed circle of the dear, dear names I so reverenced and cherished. Thus, but for the papers I received, I was as solitary of liberal friends as Robinson Crusoe on his island; and yet not so, exactly, for I had valued correspondents who were of the faith, and whose words and sympathy were invaluable. In fine, through all these forty-four years my heart has thrilled with this blessed ELIZABETH LOUISA MATHEB 118 hope, even through toil, discouragement, trial and poverty. My love for Universalisni and Universalists has never abated, although I know and have mingled so little with them. Mrs. Thomas says it is ' pathetic,' my clinging so closely to them. "Now, as a sequel to this sketch, can you beheve that I have joined a Congregational church? It is a small church not far from my home. There were several who wished me to join — the senior deacon said I ought to be one of them. I told him I was not 'orthodox.' He said I was orthodox enough for him. I told him I believed all would be saved. He said he did not see what difference it made whether I believed all or a pari of mankind were to be saved; what he wanted was Christian character. When I ap- peared before the Examining Committee, I told them I did not understand the Trinity, did not believe in endless misery, etc., in fine, believed that our Father would finally bring home all his children to the blessed feast of love in the mountain of his holiness. I urged upon them not to receive me if they could not fellowship me, for I should still go to church and love them just the same. I felt that I coidd walk with them in Christian love and charity if they received me. I did not ask to be received into the church, but was invited therein. I told them that I should join the Universahst Church if I ever had the chance. Well, I joined them, and feel it my right to speak in favor of our faith at all convenient seasons, in Bible class and church. Was received into membership without assenting to the articles of faith, only on the covenant of love and helpful service. Election and rep- utation no longer have a place in their manual of faith. Bro. Norwood and Mrs. Perry said I did right to join them; other friends dissent from this view. I go to the Universahst church whenever I can; in this home church I find progression and liberality; I trust, God helping, to do a little good therein." Mrs. Mather has written essays, stories and poems for the "Ladies' Repository" from 1847 to 1874, for the "Trumpet," "Ambassador," "Golden Ride," "Odd Fellows' Offering," etc., on religious subjects, capital punish- ment, woman's suffrage, etc. We should be glad to quote many of her poems, but the following must suffice : 114 OUK WOMAN WORKERS. MY BIRTHDAY. Upon my rosary of years Another bead is strung; And, on the pathway of my life, A sunset ray is flung! I tell my beads— and, as they fall, Adown the tide of time Come ringing echoes of the past, Which with the waters chime. I tell my beads— and those whose feet Were beauteous on life's mount, With me are ranging smiling meads, And quaffing Nature's fount. I hear the gliding brook give out Its gentle roundelay— Amid the arching forest trees, Sunshine and shadow play. Dimly I see the ruined trace Of castles built by youth; Amid the chaos linger yet Halos of love and truth— A fond ideal, which shall spring To new and glorious birth, When passed to God's eternal home Beyond this changing earth. I tell my beads— and childhood's door Once more is opened wide; My mother, with her angel lace, Is sitting by my side. Oh! to my rosary of years Will many more be strung? Or will my footsteps Avander where The old are ever young? My Spring and Summer both have gone Beyond the Ant mini's verge, I stand amid the wintry winds. Where the sad sea-waves surge! Through all these many years of life Have I been safely led; My cup of joy hath oft been full, My sorrow comforted! MAH.Y HALL ADAMS. H5 I know that he who gives, can take, And doeth both in love; I gladly take his "strong right hand," Thai Leadeth me above. Ami 80 with joy I tread along The future left for me. Knowing I soon shall reach the land Of immortality! MARY HALL ADAMS Was the daughter of William and Mary Barrett, and was horn in Mai- den, Mass., Sept. 14, 1816. The mother of Mary was a sister of charity among the poor of Maiden, and the father was one of those large-hearted men who are ever ready to do their duty cheerfully. Mr. Barrett helieved in the principles of Christian Universalism, and with his wife Mary exem- plified those principles at home and ahroad. The worthy traits of these daily living Christians were transmitted to their daughter. But she did not wait for the mantle to fall, hut commenced her lahor of love hefoie they departed. Rev. Dr. Cohb says: "When we commenced our pastoral charge at Maiden, Maiy Barrett was a little girl of twelve. Though her father was wealthy, and her associates were of the first class socially, she was ever modest and affable in her manners towards all. There was a combination of intellectuality and benevolence in her expression, and her highest concern was to enrich and adorn the mind. She entered heartily and efficiently into the work of the Sunday-school. Young as she was, she became a teacher and member of the Bible class. She joined the church at s-ixteen, and was ever one of the most earnest and faithful workers, and her enlight- ened and ever-glowing spirit of devotion added to the spiritual interest of the communion." When quite young she was called to mourn the loss of sister, father, 116 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. brother and mother; ah died of consumption, and needed great care, which she took upon herself with an unwearied heart ; but f riends saw that the frail little body was overdoing itself, but her comforting was so sweet to the invalids that they did not heed the wasting frame. She was never a rollicking school-girl, but ever had that faculty and grace about her that permitted her friends to indulge in their gay pastimes without embarrassment, although she ever had a "half sad and half smiling face." Mrs. E. A. Bacon Lathrop gives, as a reason for her quiet rensive- ness, "An early life of sorrow, and consequent care as an older sister for the broken family circle, and constant liabilities and pressure of ill-health, put this touch of sadness to her sweet face, added a singular grace and dig- nity of character that made us aU love and reverence her." In November, 1839, Mary was married to one of our most Christian and influential clergymen, Rev. J. G. Adams, D.D. Quotations from her letters to friends will at once enable the reader to recognize the frank simplicity of a pure womanly heart : " To be a clergyman's wife has from my childhood been the acme of my desire ; and I regard the day of my marriage as the commencement of my duties and pleasures, in anticipation of which my heart is joyous. It may be a way of trials, vexations, grievances. Let them aU conte ! There has been One to sustain and impart fortitude to my heart, and his hand will still guide and uphold me." To another she wrote: "I am very sad at the thought of leaving so many dear friends, and this old home my parents lived and died in ; and then, too, my dear mother, upon her dying pillow, gave into my charge my younger sisters to advise and counsel as far as was in my power, and that makes it hard indeed; but there is one whose home I am bound to bless and cheer, so think of me, dear friend, on the evening, about the time I shall stand at the a liar, to promise, before God and the world, what my heart readily yields — allegiance to the laws of Christian love and a husband." And so this beautiful woman, who, if she had been in the Catholic Church, would have been canonized as a saint after her death, took hold of the duties of a minister's wife understandingly. But she inherited the highest type of Universalism, that which refines, moulds and purifies the MAKY HALL ADAMS. 117 heart, and puts it in sympathy with everything good, and so it was as easy as smiling for her to cheer the downcast, sympathize with the afflicted, and smooth the pillows of the sick. To he useful to others whs the constant pur- pose of her entire life. "Home was her holiest place, and there she lived unobtrusively, but faithful to both home and church, strengthened in heart and soul by living faith in God." Twelve years in the home of her child- hood she lived as pastor's wife, and with those old familiar friends sus- tained herself with a natural, quiet, sweet dignity and fidelity to her duties, that enhanced the feelings of her friends to a kindness toward her akin to tenderness. Mrs. Adams edited the "Sabbath-School Annual,'' published by Rev. J. M. Usher, Boston, for three years, and through her influence the pens of the best authors in our church filled the "Annual" with the most instructive and attractive reading for our young. In a letter to one who assisted her by sending communications, Mrs. Adams wrote : "I never more than at present felt the necessity of well-directed efforts to keep, to win, to reclaim the young from what is wrong and unholy; to kindle a love of pure and sound instruction within them, a love of Christ and his precepts in their hearts. I know you feel with me the importance of filling our juvenile papers and books with instructive lessons in morality and religion. "We must think and talk more of heaven and God. We must not leave 'Father in heaven' and 'better home' to be mentioned only in prayers and in Sunday-school. We must talk of these things in the sunlight, over the needle, around the hearth on Monday or Tuesday, and not consider them Sunday or sick-bed topics nor leave them for the minister." Among her warmest friends were Sarah Edgarton (Mrs. Mayo), Charlotte Fillebrown (Mrs. Jerauld), Mrs. E. A. Bacon Lathrop, Rev. E. H. Chapin, D.D., Rev. T. Starr King, Rev. Hosea Ballou, Rev. S. Streeter, Br. H. Ballou 2d, Rev. Thomas Whittemore,D.D., Rev. L. R. Paige, D.D., Rev. 0. A. Skinner, D.B., Rev. J. W. Hanson, B.D. Mrs. Adams' real Christian fortitude shone forth when one of her heart- jewels was transported to heaven. She did not submit without a struggle, for the mother-love was strong and tender, but with a sorrowing heart she submitted to God's will, because he had taken his own and it was right. To a friend she writes : 118 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. "I think much of you with the little treasure in your hands or nestling on your hreast; and I go at once from earth to heaven and find my own little jewel which the Savior hath taken to keep for me. I would gratefully love to fold an infant to my arms and feast upon its opening attractions, but I would not call the departed one hack. I shall always have a child in heaven, and I shall be oftener there because she is one of its angels." Mrs. Adams' health was lessening every day, and it was thought advis- able to flee from the sea, and the strong east winds, and so Mr. Adams accepted a call from the people of Worcester, Mass., and removed there in 1852. Mrs. Adams, being unable to attend to household duties, remained with her Maiden friends until her new home was made comfortable for her, into which she received a most tender welcome. Her health for a time seemed to improve, and, as it was "impossible for her to keep her light hidden," her heart and brain entered rejoicingly into her duties to the new friends. Her memoir says she found congenial spirits and good earnest workers in her new home. Her first communion in Worcester she describes: "Here for the first time I sat with stranger sisters and brothers, away from that old sanctuary where I was christened, received into the visible church, married, and where my babes have been dedicated to the service and will of the Father. Here, on new ground, amid new faces, with stranger hearts all around me, away from kindred and home, I drew near to my God and Savior for their blessings, and the communication of the influence of the Holy Spirit." But in speaking of this home among strangers, to another she says: "Our home in this beautiful city is just one of the happiest homes that was ever blest with sunshine and starlight." To a friend sorrowing over the death of a child, she writes : "It is not grateful in his children to remember so keenly the bitter drops in life's cup, while they forget the many pleasant draughts which his hand has presented to them. Therefore, my dear friend, I trust you will not dwell too intently on the single bitter event of your child's death, but rather keep in mind all that you can remember of bis happy youth. To be laid in the grave and sleep in icy coldness is not all — the release of the invisible and mysterious soul, its destiny in unknown regions — unknown to us, but under MARY HALL ADAMS. 119 control of hint whom we trust. If God designed that the death of our friends should cause us to he enshrouded in darkness and gloom, would he have sent Jesus to reveal the resurrection life to us? The very fact that our relations and duties to the living do not stop when our friends die may be regarded as a proof that we are to leave the departed with God. In heart- felt prayer I know you will find consolation, and in every season of prayer your trust in God wiU increase." To another she wiites : "When I think of and sorrow for such as you, a fearful idea of what the separation of wedded hearts must be comes hke a terrible shock upon me. To bring the hand of Providence thus near to my own heart almost over- powers me ; yet thousands are brought to suffer it. I will pity all, and try to console such as I may. To be made perfect through suffering is a hard ex- perience for human hearts; but if, by reason of it, we are brought near unto God, and become like him whose life and death and resurrection were wit- nesses imto us of God's truth, we may always say, 'Thy will be done.' " In 1858 the church in Worcester enjoyed a revival, and she referred to it in the following manner : "We are having a revival of just such an interest as it becomes Univer- salists to have. Oh, that the washing of regeneration and the Holy Spirit itself may make it as pure and sincere and effectual in the lives of the disci- ples as the Lord himself could desire!" In 1859 the health of Mrs. Adams rapidly failed; in December she had an attack of pneumonia, from which she never fully recovered. In 1860 Mr. Adams received and accepted a call to the Second society in Providence, R. I. Just before going there Mrs. Adams writes to a friend : "I shall never drive business any more; I have turned that comer, and left it out of sight. Henceforth I am to aU intents and purposes a ' slow coach.' I draw comfort, however, in contemplating the poor snail. He moves slowly, but he moves. He accomplishes his journey and work; and, by the blessing of God, I shall mine, in due time." I wish I had space to quote more from this lovely woman's letters, who seems born to illustrate the beauty of the Universalist faith. Mrs. Lathrop says that "her letters were the breathings and aspirations of a Christ-like 120 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. heart, and the influence of them guided many a young person to sit at Jesus' feet." Dr. Adams says in the memoir of his beloved: "The invalid had come to a new home, but she could form but few acquaintances in Provi- dence. Her earthly sphere was narrowing, while a new and grander one was about to open upon her. She was alive to both realities. As the out- ward receded, the inward view opened. This home-land she was nearing seemed to assume the aspect of a heavenly reality. On Thanksgiving Day she took her seat at the table; ' Once more,' were the low but emphatic words as the repast was ended. "At her request we assisted her to the piano, that she might again touch the keys ; and she selected the hymn, ' I'll praise my Maker while I've breath.' In a few days those beautiful eyes, which ever looked as ' homes of silent prayer,' were closed upon all earthly scenes." MAEY ASHTON LIVERMORE. On Dec. 19, 1821, in Boston, Mass., was born one of the most remarka- ble of the women of the nineteenth century. Mary Ashton Kice was the fourth of the six children of Timothy Eice, an old-fashioned Calvinistic Bap- tist, a firm, decided, rigid "close communionist," who instilled the stern religious views he held into the minds of his children, brought up by him in the nurt- ure and admonition of the bluest of Puritanism. In a sketch written in 18G8, printed in the "Ladies' Bepository," by one whose opportunities for acquaintance with the subject of this sketch were only surpassed by his rare ability to perceive and describe her characteristics, the author, Bev. J. S. Dennis, says: "As a child, Mrs. Livermore was noted for resolution and restless activ- ity. She was the champion of the smaller and poorer children, and even of the animals when subjected to schoolboy torment. She was foremost in stir- ring sports, joining freely in the more athletic games of the boys; but proud- spirited and abrupt if rudely or unfairly treated. To this taste for healthful MARY A. LIVERMORE. MARY ASHTON LIVERMORE. 121 out-door life, and the freedom with which her parents permitted her to indulge it during the first ten years of her life, Mrs. Livermore probably owes the remarkable powers of endurance which have carried her safely through the severe labors of her maturer years. It was a help in this direction, too, that her school studies were never tasks. Where many children plod, and wear out body and mind by protracted application, her wonderful verbal memory and quick perception made the lessons a delight, and left her ample time and strength for the hoop, the ball and the swing. "Study became a pleasure — a passion; and aided by much more than common aptitude, she soon stood among the first scholars of the school. In some of the departments she had no equal. At ten years of age her compo- sitions were so much above her years that she was openly charged with pur- loining them. Claiming them as entirely her own, but not being able to con- vince the teacher that such was the fact, it was finally resolved to put her to the test. She was placed in one of the recitation-rooms, with pencil and paper, and required to write a composition of a given length. The result was so remarkable that still greater doubt was entertained, and she was charged with writing out what she had committed to memory. At her own request she was tried once more, and this time a topic was given her, — a strange topic for a child of her age,— 'Self-government!' In a half-hour she re-ap- peared, her paper covered. The composition was wonderingly read, her tri- umph was complete, and from painful distrust she was taken into especial favor. Her productions, both prose and poetic, were passed about and com- mended, and several of them published before she was twelve years of age. Her facile pen was in great demand in times of public and Sabbath- school exercises and exhibitions, and won for her a class of correspondents whose maturer tastes and purposes tended powerfully to ripen her own mind, and develop womanly hues of thought and feeling, while she was yet a child. She graduated from the Hancock School at fourteen years of age, taking a silver medal, and soon after entered the Charlestown Female Seminary, where she remained three years, most of the time in the double capacity of pupil and teacher. She taught Latin, French and Italian, and with such success that pupils, parents and principal were alike unwilling that she should leave. 122 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. "But a sad occurrence, one which changed the whole tone of her life, rendered impossible her longer continuance. It was the death of a sister, under peculiar and painful circumstances. We have already said that Mr. Rice, her father, was a sturdy Calvinist, and that he labored faithfully to im- press his ideas upon the minds of his children. With the daughter of whom we are writing he thoroughly succeeded. She accepted the whole creed, and held it with a thoroughness of conviction and a sharpness of apprehension that made it the controlling force of her life. At the age of fifteen she was 'converted,' and baptized by the Rev. R. H. Neale, pastor of the First Bap- tist Church of Boston. Her 'profession' was not an idle one, and she ia remembered as one of the most devoted and active members of the society, church, prayer-meetings, Sabbath -school, mission-school, Bible, general mis- sionary, and all other organizations where one so young was admitted at all. Her religious 'experience' was looked upon as one of the most marked and promising; and some of the more zealous were anxious that her life should be devoted to the work of a foreign missionary. "It was while she was in this frame of mind that she entered upon hei duties as pupil and teacher in the seminary at Charlestown. She still lived at home and was under the constant influence of parents and pastor. But home had another attraction. For years it had held a saintly invalid sister, a pure, gentle soul, made ethereal by suffering; one for whom earth had no promise, to whom common aims, hopes and enjoyments were impossible, whose whole spirit was touchingly tender and sweet, and the tones of whose voice melted the heart to sympathy and tears. Her condition, so sharply in contrast with that of the young religious enthusiast who was daily at her side, had opened for her depths of spiritual need not often seen by those in health. She had found in her own experience new interpretations of the soul's long- ings, of the life, words and deeds of the Master; she had felt the warmth of the Great Father's heart, and could not accept the creed which had obtained such control over her gifted sister. In vain did that sister explain, urge, plead and pray; in vain were all the efforts of pastor, parents and friends; in vain did they urge that life is always insecure, and that her hold upon it was particularly frail. All was vain that they tried. Uninstructcd in more hopeful views, hclil by lifelong illness from the great world where she might MARY ASHTON LIVEWVIORE. 128 have been taught that God is our Father, and heaven our home ; not know- ing, indeed, but her sister's creed was correct, she yet trusted the intuitions of her own tried sold and stood aloof. Of course this steady, continued refusal to follow the example of the older sister, was set down to the invalid's discredit. She was charged with 'resisting the Spirit,' 'neglecting the means of grace,' with 'hardness of heart,' 'perversity of the natural will' and the whole long catalogue of unkind sayings which are freely used on such occa- sit ns. They seemed to have no effect upon the one for whom they were in- tended, but upon the 'converted' sister, who had so entirely accepted the creed of her father, these harsh aspersions had the force of terrible fact. And they were all the more dreadful because she thought them really applicable to that deijr one whom she knew to be so pure in thought, so gentle and kindly in spirit, so confiding in her Savior, and so trustful and reverent toward her Maker; all this — but of what avail since she was still unconverted? "Rarely have sisters loved each other more. In their very differences was the sweet cement which held them like the halves of one heart. Into the fliidst of aU those years of suffering, into that sick-room that had so little brightness of its own, had come the progress, promise and triumph of the sis- ter to whom nature and kindly opportunities were so lavish ; and no friend rejoiced \vith more unselfish gladness than did the invalid to whom all such progress was denied. And no one wondered over the patient endurance, the disarmed suffering, the gentle unconsciousness of deprivation, which were so constant jq the sick-room, more than did the sister whose own experience had been so bright. And all the more wonderful these things appeared in the light, or rather shadow, of that conviction that the idolized invalid was still an alien from the kingdom of grace and truth. So angelic now, what would she not be if reconciled to her Savior? And — oh, horror too frightful for thought!— if she were to die in this condition, and all that purity, sweetness and love bo thrown into the company of fiends ! Prayers, appeals and tear- ful beseechings were redoubled. "Thus the three years passed during which the religious enthusiast was pupil and teacher at the seminary in Charlestown; and thus many more might have passed in saintly, unselfish interest on the one hand, in tearful, 124 OUE WOMAN WOBKEES. prayerful anxiety on the other — in the sweetest and freest commingling of the hearts of hoth. "But the blow fell. The gentle invalid died, died suddenly, died as she had lived — 'unconverted.' Taken without premonition, in violent convul- sions, she lived hut a few hours, and was wholly unconscious to the last. She had so endeared herself to all, that her death, under any circumstances, would have been more than ordinarily painful. But to die as she did, 'un- reconciled;' to go into the grave among the 'finally impenitent;' to be lost, endlessly, hopelessly cast out from God, was overwhelming. The blank despair that rested upon every face and froze every heart was pitiable to behold. "To no one, however, did it come with such horror as to the bereaved sister. Keason was almost dethroned. The school was abandoned; books, society, friends, all life's duties and life itself were loathed. The one horrid picture filled the whole mind. Others, with less love for the lost one, or with weaker hold upon the old faith, could not understand her agony, and chided her want of acquiescence in the will of heaven ; her father and pastor explained and prayed; her mother wept and soothed. But all in vain. The early instruction had been too thorough; the cruel creed was held too literally; the terrible situation was seen too vividly; the hopelessness was too certain. The crushed and tortured heart could not stand against the sharp, thorough con- victions of the mind, and absolute insanity seemed inevitable. "But a strange relief came; came not from truth, for the frightful dream was still thought a reality; not from reconciliation — that was impossible. It came from open rebellion against heaven; from a bitter sense of God's injus- tice. The whole Calvinistic statement of the divine nature, decrees and providence, was still held to be correct; the Bible was still thought to teach the same old doctrines; no doubt upon any of these subjects had arisen. But such a God, such decrees, such a providence, such a Bible, such treatment of human beings, had grown repugnant to her sense of right, and were turned from with open and pronounced contempt. She was aware of the perils she was encountering; the smokes of the 'unending torment' rose directly in her path; still she could not, would not turn. The kind friends who strove to bring her relief, and warned her of the danger of so faulting heaven, found MAEY ASHTON LIVERMORE. 125 her ready to meet all the consequences. She told them she preferred to be in hell with that pure, saintly sister, than be in heaven with such a God. "After fairing with everything else, it was resolved to try a change of scene for her relief. And as home, which tiU now had been the dearest spot of earth, had become the focus of cruel association, and as all the well- meant efforts of her friends, and even the tears of parents ami prayersof her kind-hearted pastor, had become repulsive, and as she long< d to escape some- where — so longed that death would have been sought had it meant annihila- tion -she was more than willing for them to send her wherever they wished. She only asked that the spot should be remote from familiar persons and scenes, and where she might have plenty of hard, absorbing work. "Accordingly, arrangements were made, and she removed to a lonely plantation in southern Virginia, and assumed the care and instruction of a group of children. The position she occupied was a peculiar one. The fam- ily was opulent, cidtivated and influential ; had accepted her services as gov- erness for their children with particular reference to the religious influence she would have with them, and expressly enjoined a strict observance of daily devotional exercises. And yet it was a skeptical family; the father was almost an atheist. But so little comfort and strength had any of them found among iheir doubts, that they resolved to have their children reared in the full acceptance of the Christian faith. "Repugnant as her old convictions had become, yet still holding them to be correct, the distracted, despairing governess accepted and discharged her ditties in good faith. Nothing could have been more fortunate for her, at this time, than it was to be brought in daily contact with such skeptics as these: persons of more than ordinary intelligence, of culture and wide reading, with a library stored with skeptical works, close and shrewd in the doubter's defenses, and yet turning from all with a sad sense of want ami weariness, which they could not bear to transmit to their children. Here, then, she saw the end of that bitter, distrusting tendency which had already begun in her own mind; this, and only this, would be found in that direction. She read and re-read every skeptical work in the house. But they brought no relief, produced no permanent conviction, and left her old faith substantially un- touched. Two years passed away, and her heart grew colder, harder; God 126 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. and heaven were as unattractive as ever. But she had matured; had learned to mask her trouble; had evoked a superficial quiet; coidd smile and be gay, notwithstanding memory all the while burnt like a cancer. Feeling at last that she could hide her misery sufficiently to confront old scenes and old friends with calmness, she came North and took charge of a school in the town of Dnxbury. Here she found the help which lifted the load which had been pressing upon her heart more and more heavily. "One Sunday evening, by invitation of a friend, but not willingly, she attended a Universalist meeting. Through her girlhood she had been taught to believe and expect evil and only evil from such persons as Ballou and Whittemore ; and she neither knew nor cared to know anything about the sentiments which these men advocated. Everywhere she heard them spoken against, and ' what everybody said must be true.' Now, for the first time, she was to hear one of the order speak. Her expectations were not high — the preacher was young ; his topic was not especially adapted to her needs. Yet it opened a new era in her existence. It raised the query whether she had not been misreading the Bible ; whether God's character, decrees, and providence had not been misunderstood ; whether the Savior's teaching and mission had not been misrepresented, whether human nature had not been maligned, and human destiny horribly mangled, in the cruel en- ginery of her early creed. As soon as the services closed she pressed forward and asked the clergyman for his sermon, that she might examine it more critically; and read it thrice before retiring, sought its author as soon as her school was over the next day, and asked him to loan her any book which taught the same sentiments. "With admirable judgment he se- lected for her ' Williamson's Exposition of Universalism.' It proved for her both light and life. It blotted out that lurid picture of hell which had so long filled the whole foreground of her thoughts; it tenderly took tbat lost sister from unutterable woe, and placed her in the great home; it swept aside the clouds which had obscured the Creator and all his works, and re- vealed the infinite Father. It seemed to her that the book was inspired; and, fearing that she might not be able to get another like it, she copied it from beginning to end. Returning this work, she received next ' Skinner's Sermons,' and these, too, she copied. The man n scripts now lie before me, MART ASHTON LIVERMORE. 1 27 a monument of her anxiety to escape from night to day, from agony to peace. Dreading error, she undertook the task of learning Greek, and pur- sued it until she had read the New Testament. But, gaining access to those ahle works in which all controverted points are critically treated, she turned to them as more exhaustive and satisfactory. Thus the months went by, and her faith grew clearer and firmer. "The help she had received in this direction from the young clergyman already referred to, had been constant, wise and delicate. Such anxiety on her part to learn, and such willingness on his part to teach, naturally brought them a great deal together, and so it came about that she became Mrs. D. P. Livermore." After her marriage, Mrs. Livermore resided as "minister's wife*" in Stafford, Conn., Maiden and Weymouth, Mass., Auburn, N. Y., and Quincy, 111. Active, untiring, efficient, during these years she was the model housekeeper of a hospitable home, a courageous advocate of whatever her clear mind per- ceived to be right and true, and a warm-hearted and indefatigable friend of the sick and needy. At the same time the productions of her pen appeared in the "Rose of Sharon," "Lily of the Valley," "Ladies' Repository," "Trumpet," "Christian Freeman," "Christian's Ambassador," and "Gospel Banner." In May, 1858, Mr. Livermore became proprietor and editor of the New Cove- nant, the organ of our church in the Northwest, which paper he continued to conduct until May, 1869, when he was succeeded by Rev. J. W. Hanson, D.D., the present (1881) editor, who says: "During eleven years, Mr. Livermore evinced a superior business ability, a rare energy, great editorial skill, and a character for probity and consecration to the responsible duties of his position, seldom equaled, never surpassed. The Universalist denomination owes him a debt of gratitude for services as great as those that have been performed by any one man during the same length of time, but even his tireless efforts would have been less successful had they not been supplemented by the great abilities and wonderful capacity for work, possessed by his gifted belpmeet. When he was Hying on the wings of steam to all parts of the West, in the in- terest of the paper and the great cause it represented, she was as competent 'ti business, as full of tact in all the details of management, as watchful ami industrious in the thousand-and-one drudgeries of a pewspaper office, as though 128 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. she had no other task, and at the same time her facile pen was in motion early and late, moving through all the gamut of topics, 'from grave to gay, from lively to severe.' It would be difficult to find two men capable of performing the amount of labor that Mr. and Mrs. Livermore wrought during those busy and useful years." For many years her productions appeared every month in the " Repository ; " the most life-like stories, sketches and poems of a high order. For eighteen years her articles adorned the "Rose of Sharon." She edited the "Lily of the Valley" three years, sometimes furnishing a third of its contents under various signatures. A series of war sketches, running through a year of the "Repository," would make a choice volume. Indeed, J. T. Fields asked to publish them in book form, but the Universalist Publishing House at that time intending to put them out with their imprint, objected; a work, I re- gret to say, never done. Of the self-sacrificing nature of Mrs. Livermore's work for the denomination the reader can judge, when it is stated by herself: "I can not remember that I was ever paid a cent in money — only books, an- nuals, sermons, etc. — for any literary work I have done for the Universalist denomination." Two volumes of her stories have been published, but sev- eral most readable volumes might be made from her scattered productions. At the present time Mrs. Livermore is President of the "Massachusetts "Woman's Temperance Union," an officer of the "Woman's Educational and Industrial Union," " Woman's Congress;" is Trustee of a Medical College in Boston, admitting Women; and she preaches in some pulpit during the Sundays of about six months of the year. In Europe, where Mrs. Livermore has passed her vacations two Summers, she is very popular. In 1880 she was absent nearly six months, and lectured repeatedly in London and thereabouts in the vicinity. She scarcely took a meal at a hotel for three or four weeks, because continually invited out. She saw and made personal acquaintance of people eminent in reform, in liberal religion, in politics, among workers for women, temperance people, etc. the Martineaus, Plights, Taylors, Conways, McLarens, etc. She preached in London several times, visited Rome, Pompeii, Naples, Florence, Genoa, Venice, Milan, Heidelberg, Constance, Pranld'ort-on-tbe-Main, Berlin, MARY A.SHTON LIVERMORE. 12f mortal mold; But torevermore Bur thy heart against Zanoni The Seeker of the Stars. Rise! betake thee, silent, lonely. To thy chamber still, Though thy father's spirit only Crosses now the sill By the living crossed of yore! Though no eyes save his now meet thee By the twilight hearth; Though no voice but his may greet thee, Nor in song nor mirth, Friend or lover eometh more, Linger there and shut thy door Closely evermore, Ere glides in the pale Zanoni, The Seeker of the Stars. Warning vain! thy heart is fated! Thine is woman's lot! By thy side Love long has waited, Though thou knew'st it not In thy child-like innocence! Now a new, divine emotion. Fathomlessly deep. Wakes thy bosom, like the ocean. Nevermore to sleep; Never to be banished thence,*- Never, until thought and sense. Lost forevermore. Die to earth and to Zanoni, The Seeker of the Stars. When thy song's full tide was filling Life's diviner part, Like a flash electric, thrilling All the thousands' heart- Did not his smile wake thy wondrous power When, thy radiant robes around thee, All the mighty throng, With ecstatic plaudits, crowned theo Glorious Queen of Song,— In that proud, triumphant hour. Like a frail, dew-laden flower, Then and evermore, Bowel thy heart not to Zanoni, The Seeker of the Stars? 15 2 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Ay! as suns in Summers Polar Never set in night, So, o'er thy young soul, Viola, In ne'er fading light, Pours his spirit its bright, fatal beams. Haunted by his eyes' dark splendor, Closer, day by day. Visions beautiful and tender Gather round thy way, Till, through twilight's softest gleams, Through thy sleeping, waking dreams Ever, evermore, Looks the radiant Zanoni, The Seeker of the Stars. Strikes thy doom! the cloud is creeping, Closing o'er thy head, While thy Lares, vainly weeping Round thy maiden bed, Pour their warnings on thy deafened ears. Underneath the low vines, standing Glorious by thy side, He. with voice deep, sweet, commanding. Wooes thee for his bride. His henceforth —thy few, brief years, Interwrought with love and tears, Ever, evermore, Will be mingled with Zanoni, The Seeker of the Stars. THE LOST GEMS. While I muse the Are burns. As I sit and watch the gleaming Of the faint and fitful blaze, Flickering up the narrow chimney, Shedding 'round a twilight haze, Prom the glowing mass, enveloped Iii a, soft, gray, ashen wreath. Shining gems drop down and darken 'Mong the embers underneath. Thus, T think, while quick emotion Stirs the founl in feeling's eave, You. my darlings dear l'*si darlings Dropl and darkened in the gravel CAROLINE M. SAWYER. 158 As I muse the fire burns; All through memory's dim recesses Full and strong its light is shed, Showing me with Life-like clearness Loved ones lost, estranged and dead — There a white hand coldly waves me, Baffling all niy love, adieu; There a world ol deep affection Looks from dying eyes of blue; There a couch, a fair child on it, Anguished weepers by its side— Oh, my darlings— Oh, lust darlings Hearts were breaking when you died! As the lire bums I muse; Memory takes the chair beside me, Points me to a curtained shrine; Little need to ask the meaning — Unrequired is word or sign — Well I know! I see them lying. Small, bright robes of silken sheen; Slender chains and costly bracelets, Gems with golden links between. 'Tis too much! a sense of loneness Deep and strange is on me now; Oh, my darlings— Oh, lost darlings These are yours, but where are you? Still the fire burns; still I muse; Back they come, those Summer mornings When I watched you 'mong the flowers; Down the garden alleys chasing Golden butterflies and hours: On your arm, perchance, a basket Filled with berries from the wood; All your fair round cheeks a-glowing With the rich, warm, rosy blood. Buttercups and daisies wreathing Like a glory round your head — Oh, my darlings— Oh, sweet darlings, Dear and bright, why are you dead? As I muse the (Ire burns: Looking through my curtained window, All without is gloom and night, Bid the (lames that Light inv chamber Every moment seem more bright — So while memory gathers round me Shadows darksome, sad and gray, 11 154 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Burns within a light that cheers me With a still increasing ray; Far through time it sends its beaming, Far beyond the silent sea. To the land. Oh, long-lost darlings. Where you're waiting still for me. MY TAPER. If in some low place, shunned of favored men, I set my candle-stick and trim the light And cheer the dismal nook where only night Reigned hitherto, am I not doing then God's works as truly, faithfully, as when The beacon fire I kindle on the hill, To light a thousand upturned brows, and lill With sudden radiance every glade and glen? Angels appeared to holy men of old In the dark prison, and none saw their light Beyond the walls! The heavenly ones who told The Savior's birth, shone on no mortal sight Save Judah's shepherds'. Let me take heart then And keep my taper bright, though shining for few menl HELEN RICH. Helen Hinsdale was born June 18, 1827, in Antwerp, Jefferson Co., N. Y. Her father, Ira Hinsdale, was a pioneer farmer, and she was horn in a log cabin on the farm he cleared in 1821. Her mother died in 1879. In those days of log cabins, school advantages were few, and Mrs. Kich speaks of the influence of the need of such ctdture on her entire life with regret and sadness. She had but one term at Gouverneur Wesleyan Seminary, in addi- tion to a common-school education. To Universalism she was born, and to that she was bred, and closely to its faith she has lived, and, when a child of twelve, expressed its beauty in rhyme. She was married at twenty, and not- withstanding her life has been one of constant domestic care, she has extorted HELEN 1UCH. 155 time to write voluminously and with remarkahle force and beauty several hundred poems and a vast amount of prose, including stories, lectures, ad- dresses, etc. Most of her .studying has been done in spite of engrossing home cares since marriage. She was with Professor J. S. Lee, of Canton, N. Y., several months, in her thirty-seventh year. She writes: "I appreciate the honor you do me to appear with the 'Working Women of our Church,' but blush at the comparison. Alas! I have had no such grand opportunities for culture as those blessed women, and have written only when others slept, or when others would have been too weaiy, soul and body, to write. I had only one academical term before marriage, and not until after I was forty did I see more than one city (Syracuse), and no lake or mountain or the sea." In reading the following description of Mrs. Rich's present home, by a tourist, it is easy to see that she has now a more congenial abiding place. "While in Brasher we enjoyed the generous and refined hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Moses Rich. Their old-fashioned, one-story, but high-walled, neat and commodious house (one of the best in Brasher) quietly nestles amid the rich foliage of the surrounding trees, and, with its sloping lawn and profusion of blooming flowers, ornamental shrubs and plants, presents a vivid picture of elegant and reigning comfort, the thought of which will long linger in our memoiy. Mrs. Rich is a poetess of rare ability and high merit, and from her pleasant surroundings we wonder not that she is inspired with won- derful poetic fancies." Mrs. Rich has written con amove, and not as a vocation. Her poems have had a wide circulation in the periodical press; but her chief productions, poems of great length, have never been published.' Her rare facility of versi- fication, and felicity of diction, may be illustrated by the following lines : "Side by side two tiny hillocks, just as little lamlis may meet. That have wandered from the fallows to the daisied meadows sweet, Sleeping in the blessed sunshine, hearing not the mother's bleat! "One was borne to peaceful slumber when the sunset's crimson dyes On her catafalque of lilies fell in royal draperies. And a train of stately mourners looked farewell with tearless eyes. "And I seemed to hear the mother, who had crossed the Silent Sea. To await that angel voyager in her snow-white argosy, Cry, Hosannah to the Savior, once a babe in Bethany. 156 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. "But the other, in the dawning of a bitter April day, When the frozen tears of Heaven on the pale arbutus lay, Was borne out in pauper's coffin by the sexton stern and gray. "Never glow of bud or leaflet on that little sinless breast, Never toll of bell or chanting holy words of quietness- Only sobs of mortal anguish, of a sinner unconfessed." Mrs. Eich has been a contributor to the "Rose of Sharon," "Lily of the Valley," "Ladies' Repository," "Overland Monthly," "New York Tribune," "Chicago Tribune," "Detroit Tribune," "New Covenant," "Star in the West," "Springfield Republican," "Burlington Hawkeye," "Boston Transcript," "Boston Commonwealth," "Woman's Journal," "Universahst," "Christian Leader," and many other periodical publications. A fine critic, Prof. J. S. Lee, says of her: "She has studied nature and human character, and seems to understand the mysteries of life. She ranges aU through the regions of the beautiful and the sublime, and tires not for her journey, and gives us her impressions in the freshest manner, and her thoughts come to us in the fra- grance of freshly-cut clover and the flowers of Spring ; and some of her earn- est and whole-souled lyrics are worthy of Gerald Massey or Charles Mackay. And such fines as these, addressed to the Adirondacks, are worthy of Milton: " 'At night to feel the heart-beat of the stars, Alone with awful mysteries, to press The pulse of centuries, to fold the wings Of restless thought in heavenly blissfulness.' "She speaks of her friend: " 'And other's grief was rainbowed by her tears, Her lips dropped sweetness as a rose; no sting Slept in the perfumed chambers of her soul.'" Mr. Lee further says: "She is a very prolific writer, but she sacrifices not depth to profuseness. She writes because she can not restrain the emo- tions of her soul. Few genuine poets are so full of the divine impulse." "Her eye is quick and keen, and she seizes the beauties of outward nature and the human soul, and reproduces them in terse and vivid lan- guage. Her observation is wide and her range of subjects varied. Her poetic vision glances from earth to heaven, and anon from heaven to earth HELEN RICH. 157 again, with lightning velocity. She mounts her Pegasus and rides into the empyreal skies without fear of danger, and quickly descends, safely and grace- fully. Her figures are original, unique and striking. This is a rare thing at this late day, when the poets have visited every department of nature and life, and appropriated nearly everything to he found there. "And in her description of Spring: " 'Earth wakes from her long, icy sloop. Tuts on her yellow sun-robes fair; The* water-nymphs lave shining feet, The wood-nymphs drop their ringlets there.' "A delicate and dainty figure- wood-nymphs dropping their soft ringlets on the pearly meadows. "She represents: "'Groat, flaming suns, liko mighty conquerors. Taking as prisoners whole hosts of clouds'— a figure as striking as it is sublime. "She is a vigorous prose writer, as seen in her 'Wills, Won'ts and Can'ts of History,' 'Literature of the Rebellion,' ' Madame De Stael,' and other lectures and contributions to the press. She has lectured extensively on 'Temperance,' 'The Rights and Wrongs of Woman,' and is a most fervid and eloquent speaker. She has done much for moral reform and the regenera- tion of society. "She is an influential and active member of our church, and she feels a deep interest in the form of Christianity which we represent, and her light is never hid when an opportunity presents itself of doing something for propa- gating it. "No one can measure the sphere of her influence as a poet, a lecturer, a moral and social reformer and a Christian." Mrs. Rich is one of our most earnest temperance workers, and her lectures upon that subject are recorded as not only persuasive to the fallen, but of high literary merit. One critic said: "Your lecture would be creditable to a man, in power. Your shaft was polished, and glittered in the sunshine of truth." Says another: "She has a firm, clear voice and an imposing per- 158 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. sonal appearance. She unites in an eminent degree the graces of her sex with the persuasive charms which have made oratory almost immortal in every age." A writer in the "Albany Express," after listening to a hterary treat from Mrs. Eich, said: "She is one of the representative women of northern New York, and her writings, politically and poetically, have the true ring of genius." Mrs. Eich has one daughter, Mrs. D. C. Lyon, of St. Joseph, Mo., an accomplished musician; and a son, Pitt C. Eich, of Chicago. We should be glad to delight our readers with many pages of Mrs. Eich's poems if it were possible, but we can only present the following: LOST AND FOUND. (To my Daughter.) Oh, my lost bird, that sang to me all day! Wee bird, that found its voice within my breast, Trying its pretty wings, has flown away, Speeding to palace gardens of the West. There, in a lovely cage, with dainty fare, Her bright head flashing 'mid the glossy leaves, With organ trembles, blended song and prayer, The old enchantment evermore she weaves. When morning sunshine dances on the nest (White, downy nest, deserted) mute I glide— My yearning kisses on that shrine are prest. And tears are welling in resistless tide. Oh, new-found nest! Oh, sunny head that lies Surely beneath an angel's brooding wing. Sings she, in "dreams," of weary, waiting eyes. And blind to half the glory of the spring? If God cares aught for motherhood, I know When Summer lies in Autumn's warm embrace — Her dying roses with his lips aglow— That I shall look upon my darling's face, Note the first flutter of the song astir In her white throat, and, thrilling in sweet pain, Find recompense for every grief in her, And life's lost music live for me again. HELEN HIGH. 159 When the first timid leaf with many sighs grew pale, And, shuddering, dropped upon the ivied arbor floor, ■When the blue haze, like misty bridal rail, Draped the far hills and kissed the pebbly shore. When all my flowers held carnival, and flung Their perfumed banners to the August air — My long lost starling "neath the lattice sung Of Spring-time glory— sang to death grim care. TO MRS. CHISOLM. OF KEMPER COUNTY, MISS. I still see my brave husband murdered, hear his dying words, "Jesus— my wife, my dear wife." I see my little Johnny throw his arms about his father to protect him from the mob. "Mother, if I leave him they will kill him;" see his poor little hand shattered with their merciless bullets; hear my sweet Cornelia, dying, exclaim, "Dear mamma, you have a sick baby this morning,"— killed defend- ing her father.— Mrs. Chisolm's letter in New York Tribune. I Sweet sister, woman, mother! thy sad story, Like Rachel's cry. goes wailing through the land; Nay, thou hast sounded till the deeps of glory, Swept every heart-string with thy widowed hand. Bereft of home, despoiled of baby fingers (Brave Johnny's fingers, clinging not in vain) That martyr hand— its potent touch yet lingers, Stinging cold bosoms with a mighty pain. And that meek "Mamma!" of thy winsome daughter, When I forget the pathos of its sigh. And fall of tears, bitter as Moab's water. Unheeded my own darlings' anguish-cry. All motherhood through thy white bosom wounded, All wifehood wronged, our faith and honor fled. In vain our eagle's cry for fr loin sounded When thou, wan martyr, knelt beside thy dead. Sweet soul, be patient: drop by drop the measure Of justice tills— all nature takes thy part; Eternal truth gives bonds for thy lost treasure; Thy country wears the -cars upon its heart. Now Freedom mourns. The spoiler hath his hour, But "God is God" in Dixie as in Maine. For every exiled band ther metfa power. And (irant shall bring them tu their own again. 160 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. APPLE BLOOMS. I keep this festal time of year As sacred to a love that died When winds were still, and skies were clear. And life was young, and hope and fear Walked with me side by side; And saddest of all earthly glooms To me the pale, sweet apple blooms. I never saw the sunshine fall So warm and golden as it lay Aslant that woodland waterfall. As if the Father's love for all Had blessed each flower of May; And fair as frost of Eastern looms The haunting touch of apple blooms. Ah! rare as gales of tropic climes These violets with brooding eyes. And fragrance of arbutus vines, With iris, royal as the wines Of prophet's paradise! The bee in honeyed chalice booms Just as in by-gone apple blooms. Ah well! a child will weep to see The butterfly he held so fast Despoiled of beauty: thus to me The love I prized was mockery!— Its gold but worthless dross at last; And hence through memory's silent rooms Like ghosts they drift, white apple blooms. IMITATIONS OF UHLAND. THE ISLAND. Like an emerald crown newly fallen upon the wave] And glinted with sunlight, The island lies upon the river; Ay, thus, my love, lieth thy sweet smile upon my heart. THE ANGEI.. In my dream an angel with eyes like thine J Came floating down to me; I awoke to sigh that, such angels, alas! Come to me only in drciims. MARY U. WEBSTEB. 101 MARY C. WEBSTER. The experiences of Mrs. Webster have been the extremes of enjoyment and sorrow. The youngest and the indulged of a large family, she felt no care until her first husband's health began to fail. Mary C. Ward was born in Litchfield, Conn., July, 1825. Her father, William Ward, a gentleman of the "old school," was from a family somewhat inflated by family pride, but he was quiet and retiring in the extreme before strangers, though bubbling over with sparkling wit when surrounded only by well-known friends. William's grandfather, Rev. Solomon Palmer, was educated at Old Yale, preached the Presbyterian doctrine for several years, suqnised his audience one Sunday by announcing his change of views, soon sailed for London, and there received ordination from the Bishop. After returning he took charge of a parish in New Haven. I mention this fact to show the cause of the tend- ency to Episcopacy in the Ward family. When it was first known that William (Mary's father) was to marry Charlotte Munger, the daughter of a poor mechanic, the inflated family pride received a direful shock. But this little Charlotte had sweet and winning ways, a poetic spirit, which beautified and enriched soul and body. She was conscientious, intelligent and loving; ami before the husband's family were aware of it, pride and indignation had given way to love, and she was received as their own. Mrs. Ward was a member of the Episcopal Church for forty years. But through the influence of a beloved and very religious son who came into the blessed sunshine of faith in an impartial God, she carefully read and examined the Scriptures for two years, which led her into the happy belief of universal salvation, and, Mrs. Webster says, by which faith she was sustained through some of the darkest trials of her life, and whose mild effulgence beamed over all her declining years, making them rife with the very beauty of heaven; and to this blessed faith was Mary led by her mother, although her mother's name was never taken from the Episcopal church-book. Mary was not systematically educated; for the older children, her par- ents were very anxious that they should receive the richest education, and 162 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. encouraged them to application, to their great sorrow, until the health of sev- eral failed, and they were removed by death. They did by Mary as most loving parents would have doue — took the other extreme; and she was allowed plenty of books, but freedom from all schoolroom restraints, and free chance for exercise in the open air. She says: "I was turned out at the early age of twelve to browse at pleasure (like Charles Lamb) in God's open book and in the wholesome pastures of English literature. Her first published poem was written at the age of twelve. Mary was married when quite young to Mr. F. A. Grannis, a merchant, of Hartford, Conn., and immediately identi- fied herself with our church in that city. The years 1859-60 she traveled abroad with her husband, and put the result of her experiences and observa- tions into a most interesting series of letters called "Thither-Side Sketches" for the "Ladies' Kepository." After returning from their foreign trip, where she had realized to the full- est extent the dream of her childhood — of standing upon Italian soil, and visit- ing its art galleries — they built a beautiful surburban home, known to all their reading friends and others as "Lilfred's Best." For several years Mrs. Grannis led a happy, quiet, intellectual life, reading what she most enjoyed, and writing only when the spirit was moved ; and from which lovely home we can easily imagine the following was written : COUNTRY SOUNDS IN MAY. A murmurous hum of thronging bees Among the blossom-laden trees; The whirr of wings, the song and call Of music-throated warblers, all Responsive to the affluent tide Of joy anil beauty, flooding wide. The tremulous stir of leaf and vine, The rhythmic sound of sweet-mouthed kine, Cropping the fresh and juicy grass. While slowly through the lanes they pass, Treading above the soft brown mold, On verdant carpets, starred with gold. The tinkling, us of fairy bells. Of tiny brooklets in the dells; The drip of mimic waterfall, Tim pipe of frog, and tree-toad's call; MARY C WEBSTER. 168 The cadence oi the river'8 plash, Suft Lapping, or with merry dash, Rushing in silver waves along, A joy to sight— to hear, a song. Thus, through these wonder-working hours, From tow'ring trees to simplest (lowers. Thai grandest miracle is WTOUghl Of life from death, a lesson taught Where Nature's quick'ning pulse is stirred, And her glad sounds of cheer are heard. Thus doth she, from her brimming urn, Pour lavishly, in rich return For many a dark and dreary day. The beauty and the joy of May. But the warp and woof of life is not always silver and gold. The health of Mr. Grannis was precarious, and a change of climate must he made in search of that precious blessing — health. The sylvan recesses of Turpentine Camp in the pine forests of Alabama were chosen as the most likely spot that woidd cause "the languid eyes to kindle with their wonted beams, and the pale, thin face to grow round and mantle with the flush of health, and vanished strength return." But the soft, healing properties of the air, which was ever redolent with balsamic odors, did not put new cheer into the invalid's spirit, or rejuvenate the languid pulse, or clothe the pale, thin face or mantle it with health; and so, before it was too late, the dear wife says: "On a golden day we again mounted the ambulance and rode forth from that sylvan region so fraught with new and deep experiences to our soids. The parting from those kind friends, so strongly endeared to us by their many virtues and the loving care bestowed upon us, was a trying scene; while the long homeward journey, alone with the enfeebled invalid, rose up darkly in the future, as a mountainous undertaking fraught with difficulty and danger. But God is good; and through his protecting care the weary journey was at length accomplished. The blessed home threshold was reached. Loving hearts welcomed the weary wanderers, and willing hands min- istered to every want. The peaceful light shining on my darling's face as he went through each familiar room, the whispered words and gush of thank- ful tears as he said 'I shall be happier if I die to-morrow, now that we are at home again,' are they not precious memories to my soul?" Mr. Grannis 164 0UK WOMAN WORKERS. continued to fail, and soon kissed the hem of His garment and entered into the rest that remaineth. Several years after the death of Mr. Grannis, the widow married Eev. C. H. Webster, and was to him a helpmeet indeed. She assisted her husband in his pulpit ministrations while he was performing missionary work. She had never been ordained, but often supplied for absent ministers most acceptably. She has been Vice President of the Woman's Centenary Asso- ciation seven years of its existence. She has intense interest in every project for the welfare of women, but does not believe that women should crowd themselves too much forward — -"but just enough." Mrs. Webster delivered at a civil and military banquet in Montreal an address which was highly complimented. She closed by reciting a poem entitled "Victoria Regia." It was very complimentary to the queen, and was received with tremendous applause. Her letters from the forest of Alabama are instructive and enter- taining. "Bear Ye One Another's Burdens" is a very touching little poem, containing a whole sermon. "BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS." O mortals! bear ye one another's burdens, And thus the perfect law of Christ fulfil; Better than gold, or the world's highest guerdons. Is it to know and do his holy will. Oh thou who, tenderly compassionate and lowly. Once trod these earthly paths in human guise. Thy sacred lessons we have learned too slowly. Too oft thy heavenly precepts we despise. From the abundance ol thine own compassion, By the exhaustless power of thy pure love. Do thou our wills and tempers kindly fashion Into some semblance of the life above; That we, while here amid these scenes of trial, May never more thy blest instruction slight, And the unerring hand on Faith's clear dial. Point ever upward to the realms of light; And thus this lower life of ours be glowing With radiance from thy spirit's holy light, MARY C. WEBSTER. 165 While from our souls kind words and actions Bowing Shall make earth's saddest, darkest seasons bright An admirable volume could be made from Mrs. Webster's "Thither Side Sketches"; from her letters from Alabama; and from her many and able communications in prose and verse in the denominational periodical press. In 1877 Mrs. Webster was called to pass through another affliction in the death of her second husband. This poem followed his death: TRANSFIGURED. I said to Grief, "My portion, thou! My meat and drink this rain of tears; Henceforth on broken wing, as now. Shall trail the remnant of my years." And dark days came and went again; And thought was without form, and void, Save as a sickening sense of pain. Of wasting want, of hope destroy'd. At last the Mount of God was seen, And Grief l ame transfigured there, With angel vision, calm, serene, And angel presence, passing fair. And from that travail sore of woe, When earth was brass, the sky aflame, Was born a Faith 'twas joy to know, And life's great Peace thro' suffering eamo. Her home, "Sycamore Place," is in one of the loveliest villages of the Connecticut valley, surrounded by charming scenery which delights all who look upon it. Frequent articles from her pen, dated from Sycamore Place, adorn the pages of our periodical literature. Having no children, she leads a quiet life, and expects little enjoyment beside what comes through her church. She is deeply interested in all that pertains to the prosperity of our denomination and the spread of the Gospel of peace and good will in the world. Notwithstanding her great afflictions she says : "I wish to have it dis- tinctly understood that whatever of sorrow, trial and care maybe endured in this life, I firmly believe the essentially good far overbalances the evil, even of 16G OUlt WOMAN WORKERS. this lower existence. And if this be the fact here, how much more will this obtain hereafter, when the weakness of mortality is over and the spiritual life is begun." MELVINA J. MANLEY Was the second wife of Rev. W. E. Manley, D.D., author of Manley's "Commentary on the Old Testament." Her maiden name was Melvina Jane Church. She was the thirteenth of a family of nineteen. She was a daughter of Capt. Richard Church, of Nunda, N. Y., and was in her cradle when her future husband was a boy of ten, separated from her only fifteen miles; and the subsequent man facetiously writes: "Had I known at the time that she would be my wife, I would have made her a visit." Her birth was Dec. 9, 1821. As a child she was very bright, active and cheerful, and self-sacrific- ing to her brothers and sisters. Her ambition for a superior education was unbounded, and Dr. Manley says this desire led to disastrous consequences. Her father, having faith in the Puritan process of hardening his children, obliged them to walk a mile and a half to school through rain or snow, which necessitated them to sit all day with garments wet about their limbs. This, Dr. Manley says, made no difference to the old gentleman, who was set in his determination not to have his children grow up with puny constitu- tions; so he kept two or three spans of horses in the barn, bedded with good oat-straw and warmly blanketed, munching hay, oats or corn, for the sake of putting his children through the hardening process, as he thought, but in reality sowing seeds of consumption. Mrs. Church, the Doctor writes, "had more sensible ideas; and her eyes without doubt followed her little loved ones with anxiety and fear. But her husband was the head of his family, and every thing went as he willed. With what complacency we all observe the diminishing of the self-appointed heads of fifty years ago! This ambitious girl at the age of sixteen commenced teaching, and not only supported herself but supplied her brothers and sisters in little indul- MELVINA .1. MANLEY. 107 gences which the "great head" did not deem necessary. f3y teaching she was able to spend :i few terms at the academy, and she contributed toward the education of her brother Lawrence S. Church, who settled in Woodstock, LI., and became eminent as a lawyer and member of the Legislature. Before her marriage, Mrs. Manley subscribed herself as M. Jane Church to most of her articles for the press. She was a permanent contributor to the "Ladies' Repository." She had great gifts in writing Indian stories, the material of which she obtained from her Uncle Rix, who was an Indian trader from 1815 till that trade was displaced by civilized society. Her best production, Dr. Manley writes, has never been published. It is a poem writ- ten in the style of Scott's "Lady of the Lake." Some of her Indian stories were accounted by many equal to Cooper's. The unpublished poem is a legend entitled "The Braves of O-Wash-te-nonk." Miss Church left school- teaching to "fight the battle of life," aided by a Universalist minister with- out means and without health, in October, 1848. In one year from that time Mrs. Mauley's exposure in youth began to show itself in her failing health. Their first-born was a son, who was cared for most tenderly, but he was not destined to remain long upon earth. He died at the age of eighteen months. "From that time on for fifteen years" says Dr. Manley, "we did little but to watch over our children and bury them. Only one survived as long as the first. He was named after Dr. Credner, of Germany, whose library was purchased and given to Canton Theological Seminary. All of our chil- dren were boys but one, and this one we named Eliza Throop, for Mrs A. G. Throop, of Chicago. Six children were born and buried before the departure of the wife and mother." Dr. Manley continues: "The sad termination of this life of struggle and suffering took place away from home, the last week in March, 1877. She was sick only four days, and passed to her reward the 31st." She rests beside her six little ones and the former wife ami bod in the family lot in (Iraceland, near Chicago. Mrs. Manley had a fine education. Her judgment on the fitness and pro- priety of words and sentences in English composition was very superior, and was of invaluable service to her husband, the eminent commentator. I give Dr. Mauley's exact words below: "I do not suppose it would interest the reader to be informed of all our 168 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. struggles during the last thirty years, of which she bore her part nobly. She hud a peculiar adaptedness to the business I am engaged in. She loved the study of the Scriptures, and was very skilful in defending them. She had a good knowledge of Latin and Greek, and of French and German among the modern languages. I greatly miss her presence and her encouraging words; but I rejoice to know that she suffers no more."' HARRIET S. BAKER. Miss Baker was born in one of the loveliest of all the beautiful rural villages in New England,— Norridgewock, Me., — Sept. 11, 1829. With few opportunities for the exercise of the great love for our church which from a child she has experienced, her life has been a continual influence for good in its behalf. Isolated from organized churches, she has not only nourished and cherished the faith in her heart, but its truths have been ever on her lips and manifested in her life. She is one of whom there are multitudes, who live on the blessed faith for which our church stands, and find it a light to their feet and a lamp to their path, and who are living and loving epistles in the eyes of all beholders. An invalid for nearly forty years, she has not only been sustained by her faith, but has found a sweet and continual em- ployment in uttering its consoling and cheering words with tongue and pen. Making no pretension to literary ability, her own experiences are constantly saying to her, as the Voice to the Revelator, " Write!" and out of the fulness of her trusting inner life she has sent her messages to the world. " The Gospel Banner" and "New Covenant" have been her chief media of com- munication. " She has done what she could," and what she has done has always gone from her heart's best love for that church to which she gave her covenant vows in 18(51, in the church at North Auburn, the nearest organ- ized church to her home. Years ago this sweet-souled woman invited some little children to come into her home every Sabbath, for instruction upon the love of God. She be- HARRIET S. BAKER. 109 gan with three little ones only, who were poor and had never been to Bun- day-school. The number increased till she registered over twenty names. This little class continued for more than eight years, there never being but a sin- gle Sabbath when she was able to have them come but some were there, no matter how rough the weather or bad the traveling. She saw them grow op under her care till they were quite young ladies, when her dear mother's long, sad illness obliged her to close her labors. She composed in rhyme each one's lesson, giving a lesson in each of God's love, the works of nature, etc. She printed them with a pen till they were able to read writing. She says : "God gave me thoughts and ways to instruct them ; and I never felt more humble than I did to see them come so constantly, and with such unabated interest, to learn." She previously had three sisters to teach (until they grew up and left home), striving to instruct them in things pertaining to a better life. Thus she was both teacher and superintendent in Sunday-school instructions in her own home for twenty years. The fol- lowing is a favorable example of the strains in which Miss Baker expresses that faith which is so clear to her: MY FUTURE AND MY TRUST. I can not tell— I can not know Whither my weary feet shall go, Or how be fed; But in God's love I will confide, And let whatever ill betide- By him I'm I'd. Although thy tender hand, O God! Is holding now thy chastening rod Above my head. And fondest hopes lie all around Like Autumn leaves upon the ground- Withered and dead. E'en in the darkness of the hour I own the mercy, love and power That's o'er me still! And some day thou shalt make me see How— and why— there oame to me This sad, sad ill 1 12 170 OUK WOMAN WORKERS. And as I trembling stoop to drink The bitter dregs (from which I shrink) Within the cup, I'll own thy ways are just and right— For faith is better far than sight. And I'll look up! Thou'lt lead me better than I know, Out from the mystery of the woe That's mine to-day! Thou may'st e'en now have placed a sweet That waits the coming of my feet— To gladden all my way! Then with the sealed book in my hand, That will unfold to me thy plan For coming years, I know that I no joy shall lose, For thou wilt give, as thou dost choose- Away with fears! While as a little child I lean Upon thee— oh, thou great Unseen- Close clasp my hand! Thy "promises" thou wilt fulfil. Whether comes good, or seeming ill— In faith I stand. JULIA A. CAKNEY. " Julia Fletcher" is one who subordinates outward show to intrinsic beauty; and this disposition secured to her many friends in her youth, who still regard her with great kindness and interest, and who speak of her as a most feeling and instructive talker. She was born April G, 1823, in Lancaster, Massachusetts, and commenced rhyming before she coxtld hold a pen; hut her first effusions of verse were published in the Lancaster and Concord local papers at the age of fourteen. Very soon, and for years after, she occupied the " Poet's Corner" in the Boston "Trumpet." In a letter to us she says: " I can well remember my feelings were akin to jealousy when JULIA A. CARNEY. 171 I discovered the initials of 'A. C and 'P. C invading the corner I had hegun to consider as my own;" hut we know the solicitude for herself soon turned to admiration for Alice and Phcehe Carey, who sang and lived our beautiful faith, and who still continue to do so, though now beyond this vale of tears. Miss Fletcher was very generous in furnishing articles, both prose and verse, for the " Christian Freeman" when it was established. Something from her pen appeared in almost every number of the " Rose of Sharon," and also in the "Lily of the Valley." In the " Universalist Miscellany" her articles bore the signature of " Eev. Peter Benson's Daughter," and were read with great interest. In 1810 she commenced writing for the "Ladies' Reposi- tory," under the signature of "Julia." Before our child's paper, the "Myitle," became the "Myrtle," in all its changes she was its friend and contributor. Li the " Orphan's Advocate" and " Social Monitor," published in Boston in 1844, appeared that touching poem that has been claimed by so many, and by one who was not born until after its birth : THE ERRING. Think gently of the erring: Ye know not of the power With which the dark temptation came In some unguarded hour. Ye may not know how earnestly They struggled, or how well, Until the hour of weakness came. And sadly thus they fell. Think gently of the erring: Oh, do not thou forget, However darkly stained by sin. He is thy brother yet. Heir of the self-same heritage, Child of the self-same God, He hath hut stumbled in the path Thou hast in weakness trod. Speak gently to the erring: For is it not enough That innocence and peace have gone. Without thy censure rough? It sure must be a weary lot That sin-crushed heart to bear, 172 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. And they who share a happier fate Their chidings well may spare. Speak kindly to the erring; Thou yet may'st lead them back, With holy words and tones of love, From misery's thorny track. Forget not thou hast often sinned. And sinful yet must be; Deal gently with the erring one. As God hath dealt with thee. It has been published in " Adams and Chapin's Hymn Book," but we can not see it too often if we will but profit by its lessons. In 1845, when studying phonography in Andrews & Boyle's class, Bos- ton, she was asked to give an impromptu exercise on the black-board. Only ten minutes were allowed, and in that time she wrote the first verse of " Little Things." It has been a favorite of children in Sunday-school exhi- bitions from that time on, and has been recited and sung thousands of times. It was first published in our Sunday-school paper, now caUed the " Myrtle." LITTLE THINGS. Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land. Thus the little minutes, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. Thus our little errors Lead the soul away From the path of virtue Oft in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love. Make our pleasant earth below Like the heaven above. Soon after her little phonographic poem was published it appeared in the Methodist " Sunday-School Advocate," with an additional verse about JULIA A. CARNEY. 178 missionary pennies, to which she lays no claim. She was a regular contrib- utor to the well-known " Boston Olive Branch." She also wrote two volumes, published by J. M. Usher, entitled " Gifts from Julia," and a series of Sun- day-school question books most acceptable and useful to our church at that time. " Poetry of the Seasons" was published by Abel Tompkins. Julia Fletcher was married to Rev. T. J. Carney, May 1, 1849. Since her marriage her writing has been chiefly prose, and for the " Phrenological Journal," "Science of Health," "Midland Monthly," and our various denomi- national papers, especially the " New Covenant." In 18G9 and 1870 she conducted the Home and Fireside department of the " New York National Agriculturist," and the " Bee-Keepers' Journal." As she was expected to fill several columns, and with continued novelties, she surprised her readers with a variety of signatures, some of which I will mention, that she may be recog- nized: "Minnie May," "Frank Fisher," " Sallie Sensible," "Minister's Wife," etc. Mrs. Carney is the mother of nine children, but five of them are with their father, where trouble and sorrow are not known. One daughter and three sons are with her in Galesburg, 111. The second son, Fletcher Carney, is a graduate of Lombard, and is practicing law in Galesburg, and bids fair to be a very able lawyer. James Weston Carney will graduate in the class of 1883; and the youngest, Eugene Francis, commenced his college course in 1880. At the time of Mr. Carney's death, the family had just removed to Apple Creek Prairie, where the people had commenced a church under his ministry. He left home on horseback, and was returning to observe the anniversary of their wedding, when he was thrown from his horse and fatally wounded. At first it was supposed the injury would detain him at home for a few weeks, and he was sure of a speedy recovery; but soon the lesion of a vein in his back caused unconsciousness from which he never recovered. He died May 4, 1871, and was buried at White Hall. It was a very severe blow to Mrs. Carney, from which she had not recovered when her son William, a noble young man of twenty, died suddenly of sunstroke. In all his life he had never caused his mother's heart a throb of pain, but his death has nearly broken it. The daughter was in the Sophomore Class with William at the 174 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. time of his death. She is finely educated, and is a great comfort to her mother in these years of lonesomeness. The following is from "The Cottage Hearth": SOUL BLINDNESS. How near another's heart we oft may stand. Yet all unknowing what we fain would know Its heights of joy, its depths of bitter woe, As, wrecked upon some desert island's strand, They watch our white sails near and nearer grow, Then we, who for their rescue death would dare, Unheeding pass, and leave them to despair. How oft the word which we would gladly speak Might be, unto some darkly groping soul, The key to bid doubt's massive doors unroll, The free winds' breath upon the prisoner's cheek, Or, to the hungry heart, sweet pity's dole! We hurry on, nor know that they are near, As passed Evangeline the one so dear. EMILY REBECCA PAGE. The facts concerning this rare Christian girl, who was a true worshiper at the shrine of our most precious faith, I received from her aunt, Maria E. Baker, of Chelsea, Mass., and Eev. B. F. Kogers, of Marshalltown, la. Casper Page, of Greenhoro, Vt., and Emily A. Alger were her parents. When the bahe was but two weeks old, the mother closed her eyes for final rest. Her last request was, that her mother, and Eugene Baker, her step- father, should supply the need of parents ; and most faithfully did they keep the trust throughout the girl's entire life. Emily was born May 5, 1834, EMILY KEBECCA PAGE. 175 with a delicate constitution, which was most tenderly guarded against expos- ure by the grandparents and aunts, for they shared the fear with others that one with so vigorous and active a mind and so frail a body would never live to womanhood. For years she grew in health and grace of body, until strangers were dazzled by her sparkling beauty. She was slightly above the medium in height, graceful in form, with the daintiest little hand that ever plucked a blossom. Her complexion was clear and pearly, with fair, Saxon hair and lustrous blue eyes. Mr. Rogers says: "Her face was always beam- ing with intelligence and wearing the sunny candor of a child." When young she attended a private school in Piermont, N. H. ; when older the Bradford, Vt., Academy, and a short time at St. Johnsbury. It was in Bradford that Mr. Rogers was a schoolmate of hers, and he speaks of her as most thoughtful and considerate. She had a kind and cheering word for every one. She was full of enthusiasm, and had a keen sense of the ludicrous, with strong likes and dislikes; quick at repartee, but never a sting of sarcasm from her pierced the heart of friend or foe. She was too loving and tender-hearted to bring a blush of shame upon the face of the rudest. Mr. Rogers remembers with great sadness the last time she appeared in the schoolroom. It was at the close of the academic year. She was so frail that she was obliged to lean upon another while she read her essay, which was scholarly and gemmed with fun and pure wit. Her earliest poems were published in the local papers, when she was about twelve years old, and they elicited most favorable criticism ; but it was a premature step, to which she referred in alter years with regret. But her improvement was rapid and continuous, as is ever the case with the "poet born." If her life had been spared to middle age she would have risen high in the literary world, and would have done great service for our church. She wrote both poetry and prose for our annuals, also for B. P. Shilla- ber's publication, and for the "Portland Transcript." The "Ladies' Reposi- tory" was one of her favorite mediums. Several years previous to her early death she assisted M. M. Ballou in his literary work. The first and revised edition of "Poets and Poetiy of Vermont," edited by Mrs. Abby Maria Hem- inway, contains several of her poems. The grandfather died in Bradford, in 1857, leaving his charge in the 176 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. tender care of the grandmother and aunt Maria. Soon after his death the broken family moved to Chelsea, Mass., where this beautiful girl, whose heart was like the primrose, opening most sweetly at the close of life, died Feb. 14, 1862. "Yes, on the day that Emily R. Page was dead, the light went out of our hearts and home," says her aunt. She was buried in Woodlawn Ceme- tery, and the grandmother now rests by her. side. Her days were brief; yet the influence of her sweet life, and the enno- bling words which she has left in prose and verse, still linger behind her, and are sacredly cherished by many who knew and loved her. The following is a companion piece to "The Old Bridge". THE OLD CANOE. Where the rocks are gray and the shore s steep, And the waters helow look dark and deep; Where the rugged pine in its lonely pride Leans gloomily over the murky tide; Where the reeds and rushes are long and rank, And the weeds grow thick on the winding bank. Where the shadow is heavy the whole day through, Lies at its moorings the old canoe. The useless paddles are idly dropped. Like a sea-bird's wings that the storm has lopped And crossed on the railing, one o'er one. Like the folded hands when the work is done; While busily back and forth between The spider stretches his silvery screen, And the solemn owl, with his dull "too-hoo" Settles down on the side of the old canoe. The stern, half sunk in the slimy wave. Rots slowly away in its living grave. And tin' green moss creeps o'er its dull decay. Hiding the mouldering dust away. Like tin' hand that plants o'er the tomb a flower. Or tin' ivy that mantles the falling tower; While many a blossom of loveliest hue Springs up o'er the stern cf the old canoe. The current less waters are dead and still- But the light winds play with the boat at will. And lazily in and out again It floats the length of the rusty chain, Like the weary march of the hands of time EMILY REBECCA l'AGE. 177 That meet ;inf the old canoe. Oh, many a time, with a careless hand, I have pushed it away from the pebbly strand. And paddled it down where the stream runs quick. Where the whirls are wild and the eddies are thick, And laughed as I leaned o'er the rocking side, And looked below in the broken tide, To see that the faces and boats were two, That, were mirrored back from the old canoe. But now, as I lean o'er the crumbling side. And I lcok below in the sluggish tide. The faee that I see there is graver grown, And the laugh that I hear has a soberer tone. And the bands that lent to the light skiff wings Have grown familiar with sterner things. But I love to think of the hours that sped As I roeked where the whirls their white spray shed Ere the blossom waved, or the green grass grew, O'er the mouldering stern of the old canoe. In this beautiful poem we get glimpses of her sweet trust in her Father's love: TAKEN HOME. Like a sweet star, falling slowly In the morning's purple light. Day by day the dear one sleeping, Faded gently from our sight. Scarcely knew we when the angels With their shining hands let down Softly to his waiting forehead The immortals' starry crown; Only that a sudden beauty Drifted o'er his face like light, Only that the smile grew holier On his lips so wan and white. Shall we wee]., that thus so early, Going from all care and sin, He has sought the golden portal, And the angels let him in? 178 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Shall we weep, dear friends, with thinking That the dew which childhood wears Was not quenched from off his forehead, By the gathering dust of years? That his feet are saved from going In these thorny ways of ours— Led, instead, by silver waters, "Where the paths are full of flowers? CORDELIA ADALINE QUINBY. Mrs. Quinby, whose maiden name was Brooks, was born in Lewiston, Me., in 1833. Her parents were earnest doctrinal Universalists, and could defend their faith with a good deal of ability. One day a model deacon of the olden time (deacons have changed wonderfully since then) made a call upon the family, to enlighten them upon the wrath and vengeance of God. The point he was endeavoring to make was that they must bdieve in a hell or they would go to hell; and while he was expatiating with an apparent delicious delight over the punishment the non-believers in hell would receive, this Cordelia, who could but little more than lisp the name of her Heavenly Father, stepped up in front of this hard-shelled religionist, and said, "Hush! or God will hear you say these bad things about him." From that time on this child seemed baptized with love for God, and as soon as she could read and reason she too found that the doctrinal points of our glorious faith blended with her spiritual intuitions. She united with our church in Auburn, Me., in 1H;*>5. In 1801 she was married to Rev. G. W. Quinby, D.D., for many years the able and successful editor of the "Gospel Banner," Augusta, Me., and author of one of the best books ever published, " Heaven Our Home." Mrs. Quinby has been a devoted Sunday-school worker, and is deeply and earnestly interested in everything pertaining to the prosperity of the church of her love. She was superintendent of the Sunday-school in Au- MINN IK S. DAVIS. 170 p;usta, Me. , for several years ; Vice-President of the Woman's Centenary Asso- ciation; and always an able coadjutor of her husband in his arduous and manifold labors for the church. * With characteristic modesty, Mrs. Quinby would disclaim being ranked where those who know her best would rant her— among the philanthropists of our century; but her generous religious faith has impelled her to co-ope- rate with the abundant labors of her husband, and she deserves a portion of the honor which belongs to those who have abolished the code of blood from the statute-book of the noble State in which she lives. Gov. Dingly has commissioned her as one of the Board of Visitors to the State Insane Hospit- al. Her sweet spirit and beautiful life reflect the holy religion she loves and for which she labors. MINNIE S. DAVIS. This long- suffering woman was born in Baltimore, Md., March 25, 1835. Her parents, Rev. S. A. Davis and Mary Partridge, moved from Vermont to Maryland soon after their marriage, and Mr. Davis became one of the early preachers of that section of the country. Minnie inherited from her mother extreme delicacy of organization, and a highly nervous temperament, a vivid imagination, and acute sensitiveness, combined with those qualities which gave her power to cultivate self-control and composure of manner. When nearly six years old, an accident occurred, the effects of which cast a shadow over her whole life; she was thrown from a carriage, and one of the wheels passed directly over her back. The injury was apparently trifling, and not until years afterward was it suspected that the accident was the cause of a severe spinal complaint. As a cloud no big- ger than a man's hand increases until it obscures the whole sky, so the deli- cate wounded nerve of the spine spread its infection above and below, until the whole column was incurably diseased. From her earliest youth she loved God as her Heavenly Father, and in her conversation of him she 180 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. showed perfect trust and a realization of his nearness and protecting pres- ence. She never wearied in talking of him, and was ever hegging her mother to tell her stories ahout God and Jesus and heaven and the angels. To her unsullied imagination, earth was hut a lower heaven, and all the peo- ple ahout her angels to he. It was always a perfect delight for her to attend church. A friend says of her, that her feelings were too intense to he nor- mal in their nature, or healthful in their effects; the music and the prayer often filled her with ecstasy; and when her father preached upon some in- spiring theme she would listen like one entranced. One day she said to her mother: "I think it is the most beautiful thing in the world to preach about Jesus. I wish I were a boy, for I want to be a minister so very much." The spirit of her grandfather, who was a devout Universalist, seemed to speak through her, for it was one of the most earnest wishes of his heart that one of his sons should preach the Gospel he so loved. But each son in turn disappointed him by entering some other profession, and with quiver- ing lips and tearful eyes he said to his daughter Mary (Minnie's mother): "I have prayed all my life for a minister in my family; and now I have one — but it is a girl." When the subject of this sketch was about seven years old her father re- moved to the State of Massachusetts, where he became successively pastor of the parishes in Hingham, Quincy and Sterling. About this time there was a re- vival in the community, and Minnie began to realize that other denominations preached very different doctrines than those taught by her father. Her young schoolmates twitted her with being a Universalist, and told her of an angry God and a burning hell. At first she stood her ground, and resented their arguments with a good deal of force, but as the excitement increased her courage failed. She thought that as so many good peoi)le believed such dreadful things of God, her father and mother might be mistaken. God per- mitted sin and suffering to exist here; might he not let them go on forever? At last, one day, wrought to a frenzy of grief and terror, she flung herself into her mother's arms, and amid her sobs told her of her doubts and fears. Was it not well that the father of that sensitive, frightened babe (she was not much more than that) preached the gospel of love, and that the mother had been endowed by nature with a calm and controlling influence, which .MINNIE S. DAVIS. 181 soon brought the little one into her normal condition? Had it been other- wise with this highly organized child, the struggle must have continued until insanity or life-long skepticism would have been the result. As it was, the conflict was brief; and the sunbeam shone upon her troubled heart, where faith in the eternal goodness was planted, never to be disturbed again. In her very girlhood she was an artist in story-telling. Nor were her younger sisters slow in finding it out, and they were always interested and delighted auditors; indeed, it soon became their favorite pastime healing Minnie "tell stories." Out-door sports dwindled in attractiveness to them if their sister would respond to — "Tell us astory!" Minnie, nothing loth, would immediately begin; for telling a story was oidy reading one out of her mind. A friend of Minnie's, Mrs. Newcomb, of Detroit, Mich., who was an amanuensis for one of her stories, says that Miss Davis rarely stopped to consider even the subject; and the plot and character would rise before her more rapidly than she could describe them. When tired, she would say to her audience, — "Here ends the first or second chapter," as the case might be; and she would take up the broken thread upon the next occasion as though no time had intervened. Some of the stories were immensely popular with not only the sisters but other young friends, and had to be repeated again and again. One of these — "Rosalie," which was published in 1859, was written through the hand of an amanuensis when Miss Davis was too feeble to hold a pen, and it gave solace to many weary hours thus to review the story of her childhood. As a child she seemed to her friends all soul and brain. Her sister, Mrs. Bissel, says: "Although Minnie was but a little more than two years older than myself, I do not remember that she ever joined in any active sports. I can remember distinctly that she was never strong enough to ac- company me on those long rambles that so charm the days of girlhood. She was the home-spirit — the older daughter who knew how to render to a deli- cate and sometimes overburdened mother the little services that lift dis- couragements from loving hearts. Her school-days were often interrupted by w r eeks of illness or suffering from weak eyes ; but her classes did not leave her far behind — for the task of learning is easy for one who has a desire for knowledge, and whose mind is not distracted by the usual recreations of 182 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. young people. Her mother was her constant teacher;- it was from her she learned an abhorrence of slavery and intemperance. But she would pity a man none the less that he was intoxicated; she was not afraid of him, but woidd defend him from jeers and taunts. I well remember, on seeing a poor black man leaning on a fence she went up to him, and asked if he were hungry, and to go home to our house ; he was in a fainting condition from lack of food, and not intoxicated as the rude children had supposed. Our mother always had a kind word for the unfortunate, and hospitality of our home is almost proverbial. With this to justify Minnie's large-heartedness and sympathy for the wandering unfortunates there is no room to wonder why my sister piloted into our home the black, the maimed, the ragged and intoxicated, at all times. Before she was old enough to fully appreciate what a Home for such poor creatures was, she used to talk that when she was older she would erect one, and put them all in it, and take care of them; and notwithstanding her great physical suffering, I believe she would be perfectly happy if she could endow a Home for poor orphan children and superintend it." The devoted mother was taken early from her family by death, leaving five daughters, Minnie, the eldest, only thirteen years old, and the youngest, Florence, a babe of three months. Though broken-hearted by the dreadful loss, the young girl's first thought was to comfort her father and sisters. Henceforth, from the holiest chamber of her heart, that mother, shrined and sainted, held a power even more potent than when on earth. The following is from Prof. J. S. Lee, who, with his wife, are esteemed and beloved friends of Miss Davis, and through whose influence she was brought before the public ; for she held her own abilities at a very modest esti- mate, and but for their advice and encouragement might never have pub- lished a book. "When some seventeen years of age, she came to South Woodstock, Vt., and entered the Green Mountain Institute, of which I then had charge. From the first she excelled as a scholar and a writer. She had a mild, thoughtful, sedate countenance. She seemed matured beyond her years. She was a woman rather than a child, yet she was child-like in dis- position. She was social withal, and a general favorite in the school. She MINNTF. S. DAVIS. 183 had the rare faculty of attracting all toward her without being conscious of it. She blended a becoming modesty with a feeling of self-confidence which enabled her to maintain her opinions, even when antagonistic to others, with- out offending them. She was a member of my family. Her amiable dispo- sition and geniality of spirit exerted a good influence over all the members of our little circle. She liked children, and took special interest in their recrea- tions and sports. She loved to tell them simple stories, and frequently wrote little poems for them. Her productions were models of thought and grace. In her studies she was every way successful. " After pursuing her studies for about a year she returned home, and was soon engaged in teaching. There she was in her peculiar sphere. She was so successful as a teacher that her services were sought far and near. She did not, like some, adhere strictly to a dull uniformity, which often tires and disgusts pupils, but she devised something new and fresh, and thus suc- ceeded in keeping up their interest in the branches taught. No two terms were just alike. With her ingenious devices and expedients and her glowing enthusiasm, which she imparted to all under her charge, her pupils made rapid progress in their studies. It was a general remark that no teacher in the schools excelled her in securing the fitting exercise of all the faculties of the scholar. But she was too enthusiastic in her work, and labored beyond her powers without realizing it at first. Failing health compelled her to give up her charge. " But she could turn her powers into another channel. She seemed ' a born writer.' Her favorite topic was the world of child-life. She had already nearly completed a work which was afterward published under the title of ' Clinton Forest; or, The Harvest of Love.' It treats of child-life, home influence, school scenes, the power of kindness in the treatment of children, the wanderings and trials of the child, the joys and sorrows of life, and the final good fortune of the wanderer. It is a book full of the true gospel spirit, and in harmony with the faith in which we believe. No mem- ber of the family circle can read it without being made better, though it was designed primarily for children. The author was only eighteen years old when this book was finished — the same age as that of Bryant when he wrote the ' Thanatopsis.' She did not dare to publish it, or hardly show it to her 184 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. friends to get their opinion of it; but she made another and higher effort. One day I was talking with her father about my experience as a student in an orthodox coUege, and the trials which I underwent there. I had for sev- eral years been a teacher in liberal schools, and knew something of the con- trast between the two classes of schools. I suggested that his daughter take this as the subject of another work. She took the suggestion, and in due season completed the manuscript of ' Marion Lester; or, The Mother's Mis- take.' The mistake of the mother consisted in sending her daughter to the school where religious error required a severe form of discipline. The plot was entirely the author's. Some of the characters were taken from real life and some were drawn from the imagination. All are admirably and consist- ently worked out, and made to fill their appropriate spheres. This is a remarkable feature of the work written by one so young and with so little experience of the world. It is a healthy book, full of warning and advice, timely and wholesome. I looked over the manuscript, and found little to correct or amend. I advised her to publish it. She prepared it for the press, and in May, 1856, sent it forth, a 'fragile bark,' as she calls it, 'upon the literary sea already teeming with ten thousand lights.' It was a success. The book was read with intense interest by thousands, and it did much to correct the mistake of sending sons and daughters to schools where their religious opinions are treated with ridicule and contempt. It has become 'a classic' in our denomination. " Three years after this book was published, ' Clinton Forest,' previously written, was issued from the press, and also had a large sale. No one can measure the influence of two such works. They are an honor not only to the gifted author but to the denomination to which she belongs, and a bless- ing to the world. The world has been the gainer through the power of her pen. Would that she might again take it up and send forth, as formerly, her delightful poems and charming stories depicting the brighter scenes of every- day life!" Before the publication of " Marion Lester" she had not published more than half a dozen articles. From that time on she became a frequent con- tributor to the " Trumpet," " Christian Freeman," and local papers. At one time she contributed to a paper published in Philadelphia by Hiram Torrey. MINNIE S. DAVIS. 185 For a long time she was a regular contributor to the " Ladies' Repository," and for five years was associate editor with Mrs. Sawyer and Mrs. Soule. In 1853 she removed with her father's family to Hartford, Conn. Although her health was very feeble, she had high hopes of usefulness and happiness. She anticipated much under the wider opportunities offered by the cultivated city of Hartford ; but these hopes were never to be realized ; for, though she struggled bravely with advancing disease, in a few months she was obliged to relinquish all — church, Sunday-school, society, books and pen. Her disease rendered her nearly helpless and partially blind. After a period of extreme suffering she rallied sufficiently to be able to sit up a portion of the time and to walk about the house. At times she was strong enough to ride short dis- tances, and at rarer intervals she could walk out in the open air; but she has never been able to take up any of the active duties of life. Mrs. A. A. Ellis, a friend of many years, communicates the following: " Wearisome days prolonged into years — months when she could not stand alone or walk — and then nursed into convalescence. All one long, dreary Winter she was kept in a darkened room with her eyes closely covered, not enduring a ray of light, and suffering most intensely. And with aU this pain and suffering and blindness, with it all there came such a longing to use the pen and to pour out her soul in one long poem. One of the best poems she ever gave utterance to was like the 'Nightingale Sang Darkling;' and the spirit of tmrest and of waiting (although waiting is not always idleness, only resting for greater maturity of plan and purpose), which required such unparalleled patience to endure, and such a spirit of faith as martyrs have exemplified, and as the Master gave us in the garden of Geth- semane. And such a spirit our friend has evinced — ' Not my will but thine be done.' Miss Davis' books and writings had just begun to be known and accepted by the believers of the Universaliat Church, and she has received many very flattering notices through the press, and personal letters from friends who had never seen her. One well said of her, that her name was a familiar ' household word.' All through her books or her Sunday-school dramas, of which she wrote many, there shone through them all, like a sil- ver thread, a loving, consecrated spirit which has led many to accept of that faith which teaches that God is the father of all, full of love and tendernes. 13 186 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. and care over all his children; supporting and comforting them through all the trials and sorrows of this life, and giving them an ahundant entrance in- to that 'house of many mansions.' " Content Whipple, who was a friend of Miss Davis, but who has entered the higher life, in a letter mentions the fear she felt, on receiving a letter from her one day, not in her own handwriting, and says: "My fears were realized ; but the cheerful tone of your letter convinced me that though suf- fering in body you still retain your beautiful jjatience and fortitude of spirit. When I try to express my feelings in regard to your sickness, I can find no words to do them justice. When I think of your patience and cheerfulness under such great affliction, I feel condemned for every impatient word or act in my life. May God in his infinite mercy restore you some time to an enjoyable state of health! It is my prayer day and night." The following is from the "Gospel Banner," by Eev. Charles A. Skinner, after reading "A Beautiful Spirit," by Mrs. Julia Crouch Culver: "There is one of our lady writers to whom the denomination is largely indebted for some of the sweetest lessons it has had set for its learning. But those who have not known her nersonally have missed a sweeter lesson than was ever pictured by her pen— have missed the lesson of patience, quiet sub- mission and holy trust. For some time we have had no contribution from her pen ; and some who do not know may perhaps inquire, — 'Where is Min- nie Davis? Why do we not hear from her as we did in former years? Has she forsaken us, or has her love grown cold?' Neither of these. It is all explained in that one sad word — invalid. But though she does not write, she preaches every day to all who know her, of patience and submission and trust. The following truthful tribute, taken from the 'Norwich Bulletin,' says too little rather than too much in its eulogy : " 'A Beautiful Spiiut. — When I sit at my desk, with the stillness of a quiet room about me, there rises up before me that sweet, beautiful woman in one of Hartford's quiet homes. To meet Miss Davis once, causes you to crave another meeting ; to know her well, causes you to love and reverence her, to never forget her, and to feel the blessedness of her influence forever. All day she sits in her easy chair — an invalid -where she has sat for many long and painful years; sits with her white hands folded, hands that long to MINNIE S. DAVIS. 187 ■wield the pen as once they did, folded softly together, never telling how they long to work, hut suggestive only of patience and submission. The children of a few years hack know her through her beautiful books, some of which were written entirely by an amanuensis. Many men and women know her also through books written for minds of a larger growth; but few of them know through what exertion and suffering they were written; and only those who know her personally can appreciate her pure soul, which is set in jewels the most beautiful the earth contains. Uncomplaining and patient, she waits on and on; suffering constantly, worse than blind, her eyes giving her pain in- stead of sight. " 'You think of her, of what she has done even in her weakness, and what she might do if she had your strength; and your own trials, and the obstacles which seemed like mountains in your path, float off in the air like bubbles ; you feel your nerves growing steadier, and your arm stronger, and you feel that yon can struggle in the arena of life with the dauntless spirit of the gladiator. " 'And so that beautiful spirit, almost ripe for heaven, strengthens you with her weakness, helps you with her helplessness, and softens and purifies your heart with her habitual patience and sweet submission. " 'Ah! Minnie, Minnie, you know not as you sit in your easy chair, help- less, longing to labor in the dear Master's vineyard, how much you are doing for your friends; how you are helping and strengthening them; and how you are drawing them nearer the beauty and purity of a sinless world, where at last you will find a surcease for ah your sufferings.' " In the year 18G9 a great sorrow fell upon the family in the death of Florence, at the age of nineteen years. She was lovely in mind and person, and possessed a sparkling wit, which bubbled over in the most charming say- ings. She was the light of the home, and the joy and pride of her invalid sister. Her death caused a wound which time can never wholly heal. At this time a group of young sisters was growing up around her — the children of her father's second marriage. She took the greatest interest in their education. She constituted herself their home instructor, and sought to forai their taste in reading. When suffering most, even when confined in a darkened room, she never wholly relinquished the pleasant task. They, in 188 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. turn, became her readers and amanuenses ; indeed, she feels that she owes much to their sweet companionship and this constant exercise of her mental faculties. Miss Davis is interested in all true reforms and in the educational questions of the day. Though feehng her afflictions keenly, she is usually cheerful and serene; but sometimes the yearning to be "up and doing" is so strong that a deep sadness faUs upon her spirit. She is firm in the faith that God's work will be done — that he will never lack the ministers to fulfill his high behests; and she comforts herself with the thought that "they also SERVE WHO ONLY STAND AND WAIT." The following poem was composed after the author had been confined in a dark room, suffering greatly : THE COMFORTER. The spirit whispered to my soul, Cast down with doubt and fear, "Thy broken heart shall yet be whole. The Comforter is near." "Rut what can give this pain surcease? " Cried my rebellious will, When Jesus gently answered, "Peacel" And lo, the storm was still ! "Rut it is cold and dark," I said, "I can not see the way; My soul is hungering for bread And is athirst alway." How sweet the answer, "I will bless The blind and give them sight. I am the Bread of righteousness. I am the Life and Light." "But I am weary. Lord," I cried, "Willi such a cross opprestl " "Come unto me," he then replied, "And I will give thee rest!" In tears I said, beneath my breath, "My loved are torn from me, And trembles by the river Death, My poor mortality 1" OT HENRIETTA A. BINfiTIAM. HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. 189 Let not thy heart be troubled more, Fair is the house of God! To where thy loved have gone before I'll hear thee through the flood." Blest Jesus, take me, I am thine! The veil is rent apart. Won by such graciousness divine. My refuge is thine heart, Where I can rest upon thy love Through cold, and storm, and night. And trust God's righteousness to prove In happiness and light! HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. The thought of giving a sketch of Henrietta Bingham's life compels a feeling of great tenderness in my mind, and it would almost seem that even the paper must he touched lightly, and her name tenderly traced; for no woman was ever more solicitous for the Christian influence of our church, and no one ever fulfilled her duty more truly than did she. But I shall not dwell upon the sweetness of her disposition or the features of her literary character. This will he done hy those who have known her long and inti- mately, Rev. Dr. Atwood, one of the most accomplished of literary critics, and a master of "English undefiled": and Hattie Tyng Griswold, a writer whose pure and elegant prose is only surpassed by her melodious verse. Their just and eloquent characterizations photograph the rare and beautiful spirit so perfectly that it only remains for me, with the assistance of her brothers, to give the outlines of her biography, and her yearnings, aspirations and achievements. Henrietta Adelaide Burringtoij was the youngest daughter of the second wife. By the first marriage of Henrietta's father there were three children, Rosalie Martha (Hall); Lindley Murray, a clergyman in our denomination; and John Quincy Adams. By the second marriage, with Louisa Chapin 190 OUB WOMAN WORKERS. Rice, there were four children, Howard Rice ; Lorenzo Lester, Professor at Dean Academy; Solon Orville, who was Henrietta's nearest brother in age, and was with her during her last illness, and was to her a kind and ever- watchful physician and tender nurse ; and Henrietta, the youngest and pet. Mrs. Hall died in Gaylord, Mich., March 28th, at about the age of fifty-five. She was a noble Christian woman. Her husband, who survives her, was literally a hero of many battles in our late war. The eldest child (Lindley M.) of Mr. Burrington's first marriage, says of Henrietta's mother: "She was a woman of far more than average ability and intelligence, and of no mean literary attainments. As I recall her she was a very dignified and refined lady. There was a charm about her which made her advent in our home an occasion never to be forgotten. I recall vividly my first impression of her, then a child of seven; and the kind, cordial manner of her reception of the three motherless children conciliated them in a moment, and made an impression deep and lasting, so that she has a place in their hearts to-day hardly second to that of their own sainted mother. " A beautiful tribute from a step-son, who knows whereof he affirms, and who further says: "Of this dear mother we have no picture, but Henrietta bore a remarkable resemblance to her. Especially did I observe this as our dear sister lay upon her death- bed. They were wonderfully alike also in their mental characteristics, and especially in the features of that deeper spirituality, which was marked in both. And when this dear step-mother left us, our home was darkened by a great sorrow, and we all remember her with the tenderest of affection as the years come and go." We wish we had space for the entire beautiful let- ter of this step-son, who seems anxious to pay a tender tribute to the many virtues and accomplishments of the mother of the subject of this sketch. Henrietta was born Dec. 21), 1841; and her mother, who had been so tender and kind to the motherless three she took into her heart, died and left four little ones (Henrietta but one year old) to be cared for by whom she knew not. But Henrietta nestled into the heart of her half-sister as naturally as if she belonged there. She was gentle and easily managed, and all went well for eight years, after which the father married; and soon after the be- loved sister married and left home. Henrietta never ceased pining for this. HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. l'.il si>tcr until she became a woman grown, and she had a .strong attachment for her to the day of her death. Henrietta was a, very precocious child. She learned t<> read b< tore she was five, and her brother Lester says she was always classed with those older than herself, and invariably stood at the head of her class. It was quite often, galling to her older brothers, who prided themselves on good scholar- ship, to have Henrietta in their classes, and especially so when she had suc- ceeded in solving some difficult prohlern, or unraveling some knotty con- struction in Milton's "Paradise Lost," which they had failed to fathom. When a child, even, she was a great reader, and eagerly devoured every book she could get hold of. Indeed, reading was her greatest fault in those days, and she probably received more correction for reading while at work than for all other offenses put together; the greatest complaint of her step-mother was that "her head was always in a book." Her opportunities for reading were not great. Her father, being a farmer, had hut few books, and there was no public library in the town; so her only resort was borrowing from her neighbors, which she indulged in quite freely. At the age of thirteen years she taught her first school, and achieved unusual success. She was quite fond of teaching at this time in her life, and devoted a part of every year (the Summer) to that work, until her school education was finished. It was during these years that she began to develop a literary talent. She amused herself during her leisure hours by writing little stories and sending them to her schoolmates to read, and occasionally wrote a little poem for their amusement. She was very shy in regard to these productions, and would never let her older brothers or any member of the family see them. At sixteen she left home to attend school at South Woodstock, Vt. Her oldest brother, as he became of age, had taken a portion of his first year's earnings and gone there to school. He sent home such glowang accounts of the school, and entertained such high hopes of a liberal education, that Hen- rietta, began to lay similar plans for her future. When the second brother- was making arrangements to go to South Woodstock, she urged him to take her with him; and as she was not happy at home, and her father thought he could not help her any, her brothers determined to educate her, and she was 192 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. sent to South Woodstock. Here she spent the happiest days of her Hie She was a careful and earnest student, and took great delight in her work Her early love for reading was here allowed full scope. Her progress vas rapid and thorough, and she often astonished her teachers by the ease with which she could master the higher mathematics and the French language. She soon began to show unmistakable signs of literary ability. Here ;;he wrote many pieces, both in prose and in verse, intended for school ei says, but which afterward found their way into the public prints. Here also she formed the strongest attachments of her hfe. Being mature in thought, though young in years, she early became the intimate friend of hei teachers, and came to be regarded by them as an equal, rather than a pupil; and she entered so heartily into the plans and sympathies of her schoolmates, that she became a universal favorite. After having completed the full course of study at this school she became its preceptress, and fulfilled the duties devolving upon her with marked success. During these terms, however, she began to feel that her line of duty did not lie in this direction. She had imbibed such a strong love for purely literary work that she determined to make that her occupation. Accordingly, in the Fall of 1862 she set out for Boston, determined to spend the following Winter there in some sort of literary occupation. She soon found employment in the Universalist Publishing House for a part of her time, and occupied the remainder in study. That Winter she was wont to consider the most profit- able of her early hfe, because it gave to her the most ample opportunities. She embraced every occasion that came within her means to hear lectures, concerts, readings, and to attend gatherings of every description. She was very kindly received into Boston society, and succeeded in rubbing off a good deal of what she was pleased to call the rough corners. In the following Spring she received news from her half-sister, Mrs. Hall, then living in Ohio, that her family was sick and needed her assistance. She immediately started on her errand of mercy, and found, on arriving at her sister's home, two of her four children very sick with typhoid fever, and their father in the army of Tennessee, fighting the battles of his country. Before the children had passed beyond the danger-point of their sickness, the mother was taken down. Henrietta, found herself equal to the task, and with the aid of HENRIETTA A BINGHAM. 198 neighbors and friends brought them all safely through. When the mother was convalescent, and anxiety was gone, Henrietta was stricken with the terrible fever. Her illness was long and painful, her life being despaired of for many days, and her recovery was very slow, and her health was broken. She never after became the strong and healthy woman that she was before. When the family had quite recovered, and her services were no longer needed, she began to look around for some employment, as her sick- ness had greatly reduced her little store of means. Her wants being made known to her friends, she was very soon employed as preceptress of the pre- paratory department of St. Lawrence University, in which place she was a successful teacher. And it was here that she formed the acquaintance which resulted in her marriage with Henry L. Bingham, March 29, 1866, a theological student in St. Lawrence University. Her husband was in feeble health at the time, and no mother was ever more tender of an infant child than Henrietta of her husband. Her love for him grew day by day to the time of his death. After five brief months, September 5, 1866, death broke the silver cord that held these loving ones together, and the young heart was destined to pursue the remainder of hfe's journey alone. A memorial sermon was preached in Clinton, N. Y., by Rev. W. P. Payne, who paid a high tribute to the worth of Mr. Bingham, saying: "He was modest and unassuming, deferential almost to a fault, yet I never met a young man in whom I had greater confidence than in him. I felt that he stood on a firm foundation — that he was incorruptible ; and that, whatever Providence might have in store for him of prosperity or adversity, of joy or sorrow, of tribulations or triumphs, he would leave as a precious legacy to friends and to the world an unspotted and beautiful record." This young man of talent and Christian grace was Henrietta's husband. She survived him ten years and six months, always true to his love and memory. Mrs. Bingham was enfeebled long before any outward sign appeared, but she persisted in her literary work until her strength was nearly spent, before she decided to go to the loved and loving home of the parents of her husband) in Columbus, Wis. She reached this haven of rest March 12.1875. No sudden change came, but a gradual decay commenced. She was an idolized child in that home, and she clung to the love of those who were 194 OUE WOMAN WORKERS. parents indeed, as though it were life to her; and their love supported her to the last, showing itself in most patient watchings, in eager, anxious looks, and tenderest care. Not until late Autumn did it become a settled certainty to those saintly parents that ah that was left to them was slipping out of this life. Of her spiritual meditations during her last months we get glimpses from her sick bed, from one of our Sisters of Charity, Mrs. M. G. Todd, and from others who watched with her. Once she said, "Formidable mount- ains loom up in my way sometimes, but when I close my eyes I can see the plains beyond, the flowers and sunshine, and sometimes his face." To the dear parents, one day, near the close, she said, "Sit by me, mother and father; nothing can help me through like your love." And so this father and mother, anxious to respond to every look of their dear child, would for- get everything else, and employ all devices to soothe and comfort their only treasure. She had become a part of themselves, and their devotion to her was divinely beautiful. Her eyes seldom wandered from them when they were by. One day she said to a watcher, "Their love has given me the greatest possible happiness in these days of sickness." Weaker and weaker grew the patient sufferer. When the change came, it was like a cloud pass- ing over her large, kind, wistful eyes. Just before she died, when her active brain had begun to wander, a friend mentioned her husband, and at once the cloud lifted from her mind, and clearly but slowly she repeated, "He giveth his beloved sleep." And on Feb. 18, 1877, she "fell on sleep," leaving a beautiful and unfading record to testify that she has been and wrought, and now has gone to higher spheres of labor. Rev. Dr. I. M. Atwood says : "It is four years to-day since this strong and beautiful spirit forsook its earthly house. It is of sufficient interest to mention, perhaps, that after deferring, for one cause or another several months, the task of writing a sketch of her for this book, we sit down, by chance, to the work on the anniversary of her death. Four years is no incon- sidefable fraction of our mortal sojourn, and the fact that such a period has slipped by since our friend left us, while her presence pervades recollection as if she had only slipped out for an afternoon call, suggests at once how HENRIETTA A. BINGBAMj 195 soon we shall all be across the flood, and how indelible is the impress of a fine and original nature. "It would be most easy, as well as most natural, to dwell on her per- sonal traits, since these are what endeared her to her friends, and what recall her most vividly to memory. Bui Mrs. Bingham secures a place in this gal- lery of mental portraits rather on account of her genius and puhlic service than because she shared with other women in the qualities that attract friends. To her character and career as a writer this sketch must be chiefly devoted. "Her person was tall and slight, her movements deliberate, her manner hesitating; a good head, crowned with dark brown hair; blue-gray eyes, large and studious; a cast of features indicative of sensibility rather than power; just a shade of melancholy on her face in repose, which quickly gave place to varying expression in conversation; a good listener, attentive, appre- ciative, anticipatory, and when it came her turn to talk, grafting on with ease her own thought; addicted to musing, but prompt to accept a challenge for debate; grave and thoughtful one hour, a very girl the next — such are some of the more prominent traces of her personality lingering in our recol- lection. "The circumstances of our making her acquaintance, and of her intro- duction to the general public, we sketched a few days after her death, and we can not hope to do better than reproduce it here. Some time in the Fall of 1808 w r e received at the office of the 'Universalist,' Boston, the manuscript of a poem read before one of the literary societies of St. Lawrence University. It had not been folded with care by the young man who sent it to us for pub- lication, and it arrived in a badly crumpled and forlorn condition. Our prejudices were aroused against it at sight. Its length was another circum- stance that sealed up our sympathies; and it was several days before w T e sum- moned courage to attack it. When at Length we began the reading of the poem a new sensation awoke. Here, unquestionably, was merit of no com- mon sort. A certain subtile penetration allured the mind of the appreciative reader, while the inascidine strength of the thought, and the careful finish of the verse, put the stamp of high value on the production. The interest 196 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. awakened by this poem led ns to make inquiries about the author, of whom we had heard little. The agent of the Publishing House informed us that the author of the poem", Mrs. H. A. Bingham, was also the author of 'Mign- onette,' one of the 'Prize Series' of stories published by the house. We took up that little book for the first time, and found in it the same strong lines of power we had traced in the poem. Toward the close of that year Mrs. Bingham, by invitation of the agent of the Publishing House, came to Bos- ton, and in the January following became editor of the 'Ladies' Kepository.' During the five years that she conducted that magazine she made for herself a literary record that woidd honor the brightest name in our church. To a wide and high range of thought, she added delicacy, warmth and graceful humor. Her work on that periodical was of the best quality throughout. She was too conscientious to slight any part of it. We have re-examined nearly all the numbers from January, 18G9, down to the suspension of the magazine; and the high opinion we had of the character of her work as it was produced, has been more than confirmed. The aggregate of her editorial labor was large. She resorted to no devices to fill space and save honest labor. It is her own work, without padding or poaching ; and in qual- ity it suffers nothing in comparison with the best work of its kind. As a gentleman of high culture and fastidious taste once said to us, 'The 'Repos- itory' editorials are surprisingly able. They would do honor to any writer, man or woman.' "It was during the comparatively brief period of her editorship that she made her record as a writer. But no one comes suddenly into literary estate. However it may be in other fields, here we earn our inheritance. And Mrs. Bingham was long acquiring the art and mastery which at length marked her out for succession in the line with Julia Scott, Sarah Edgarton, Mrs. Bacon, Caroline M. Sawyer and Nancy T. Munroe. A manuscript volume, containing pieces written at intervals from the age of sixteen until she took charge of the 'Repository,' bears witness to the long and diligent preparation to which her powers were subjected. Mind history and heart history are here photographed by an unconscious artist, and we see, as we turn the leaves of the little book chosen for her girlhood rhymes, how her intellect opened and her faculty grew. The two marked traits of her maturest literary work, HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. 107 thoughtftdness and grace, appear very early. It was her good fortune that she did not make rhymes easily. Had she possessed the fatal facility of some young persons in emitting jingle, she might, like them, have hi en tempted into pouring out profusely a weak wash of metrical prattle, which can he called poetry only hy the same license which allows sound to he called music or words eloquence. But her sense of precision and proportion kept back the flood. Like Lowell, most accurate and idiomatic of our poets, Mrs. Bingham never permitted her muse to run wild, but held it rigorously under the rein of understanding and disciplined taste. Thus it came to pass that her work bore the stamp of quality, and when at length professional duty exacted of her a large amount of literary labor, its uniform high merit pro- voked general surprise. "It is a fact which must have been many time^ noted, though wdiether particularly remarked or not we are not aware, that poets are, almost without exception, masters of prose. From Milton to Burns, from Scott to William Morris, or from Halleck to Holmes, the illustrations of this filet are as numer- ous as the prominent names in this department of literature. The classic English is the prose of the poets. The reason of it is not far to seek. The power born with the poet is not something wholly unique, but 'the vision and the faculty divine' is made up in a large part of the same qualities that constitute literary function in general. Mental strength and mental fineness, acuteness, delicacy, humanity, and especially an ear for the more subtle har- monies, are requisites in a literary artist, whether he write in numbers or not. But the necessity laid on the poet to condense and prune and interfuse the letter with the aroma of spirit is precisely the discipline which fits him to produce winnowed and vital prose. "Mrs. Bingham was not an exception to the rule. Her specialty was verse, but her pen moved with a force and grace entirely native in essay, edi- torial, stoiy or sketch. It would suit our feeling to allow her to bear witness to this statement at great length ; but the limits within which this essay must fall prohibit extended illustrations. A sample of her manner in each depart- ment must suffice. How like a paragraph from the always felicitous 'Easy Chair' this reads: " 'It is easy to celebrate a sentiment, hard to criticise it. The origin of 198 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. Decoration Day was so spontaneous, so natural from the overflowing heart of the people, that it could not he argued ahout, only allowed expression. If there were fears that, under the guise of patriotism, we were really fostering sectionahsm and keeping alive a hitterness it were better to forget, the words could not be graciously said over those eloquent graves. If that temper were really in the hearts of the people, to repress its utterance woidd do no good. We must change the feeling by the difficult triumph of principle over senti- ment; a sober, Christian work, to be accomplished only by the slow help of time. But time has proved that this blossoming of tender remembrance nour- ished no such root of bitterness. There is no more efficient rebuker of hatred and revenge than the grave. And as we have written in flowers each year the old legend, 'Sweet and noble it is to die for one's country,' we have learned a nobler appreciation of all sacrifice and suffering, even that of our enemies. "So evenly sustained is the excellence of her work that we are at a loss where to excerpt. A few hues from a remarkably strong editorial on 'The Insurrection of Conscience, ' must serve as a hint of the power and independ- ence of her thinking : " 'The great men of history have been the products, rather than the lead- ers of an awakened age. There have been eras of conscience, as there have been of material glory or of intellectual vigor. And these will be found to follow periods of lapse and decay by a reaction as inevitable as the turning of the tide. A recent author thinks to have found the secret of Christianity in its self -corrective power, its swinging back like a pendulum from any extreme. But is not this secret deeper even than Christianity — inherent in the very nature of moral life? Wherever conscience exists, it will sooner or later become the dominant power; and true or false in the absolute, it will set itself, like the needle to the pole, to the highest known ideal of righteousness. The reform of Buddha in its pure estate showed this, and the reform of Mohammed. They were the protest of simple righteousness against the sickly shains of a degenerate religion.' "The readers of the 'Piepository' during Mrs. Bingham's term of service will remember that she wrote much poetry which yet was not verse. The poet's eyes and the poet's art were hers, and we do not wonder at the fre- quency of such true pictures of nature as this : HENKIETTA A. BINGHAM. 199 " 'We have had a royal October; and now on November's edge the sun- beams linger lovingly, loth to fade or chill. Above us as over Ajalon of old, the sun seems to have stayed his journey, and tarries in northern skies as serenely us if no summons across the tropics had ever been decreed. The leaves rustle to their fall, and the pomp of crimson and gold fades from the hills: but still balmy Summer is in the air, and the golden mist is warm over the mountains, and the clouds lie asleep on the bosom of the clear blue, undreaming of storms to come. Yet the beauty that enwraps us as a dream is not the sensuous beauty of the Summer. The full foliage, the profusion of blossoms, the waving harvest-fields, have dropped out of the picture, that a more subtle and ethereal beauty might glide in. It is the beauty of rest and quiet, when the heat and burden of the year's noonday are over, and its hands are folded, its tasks all finished, its desire satisfied. One way or another the immemorial feast of the ingathering has been celebrated, and the harvest home has been sung. The earth has yielded her increase, and the food of all her millions is safe stored in her overflowing garners. And it would seem as if earth and air and sunshine paused entranced together, and sighed with satisfaction, 'It is finished.' "For liner examples of the quality here disclosed, we refer the reader to 4 Autumnal Rain,' 'Spring,' and 'Under the Snow,' all too long for quotation. "In two other departments of prose writing, newspaper correspondence, a distinct modern specialty, and in story-telling for children, Mrs. Bingham displayed the versatility of her powers. The charm and naturalness of both her stories and verses in the 'Myrtle,' during the period that she edited that juvenile, attracted the attention, and elicited the warm praise of hundreds of good judges. But we must turn from these inviting fields to consider, much too briefly, her claims to the place we have accorded her as a poet. Since the materials for illustration are so abundant we may properly spare ourselves the task of interpretation. Mrs. Bingham's poetic gifts were of an order to improve with use. In each of her longer poems there are strokes of power and strains of melody, prophetic of loftier achievement; and we can not doubt that the palsying effect of disease abridged the full movement of her genius. We regard the work she accomplished, strong and flavorsome as it is, as a hint only of the great and rich resources of her nature. Up to the 200 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. time when invalidism suspended her work she had scarcely cleared herself of the coloring of a somewhat morbid personal experience, in the light, or rather dark, of which nearly all her poenis must be read. Had her life been pro- longed and health returned to her, we should have heard at length her liber- ated song, the full note of a rare, sweet singer. A suggestion of what we have in mind is conveyed by a comparison of the two poems, 'The Human Side,' and 'The Divine Side.' The httle poem, 'On the Edge of the Sea,' is a sample also of her healthier mood. Such poems as 'Compensation,' 'Divided,* 'Out of the Depths,' 'Sunset,' take a more powerful hold on us because the element of personal feeling compels sympathy. But she was herself aware that so strong a tincture of personal moods, especially when they incline to melancholy, is an alloy of the true poetic quality. "Referring the reader to the volumes of the 'Repository' between 1869 and 1875 for full memorials of her muse, we make the best use of our remaining space by preserving here her most characteristic and perfectly finished poem, 'L'Envoi.' It is a midnight meditation on the passing year. The familiar shadow rests on it, yet the light of a serene trust illuminates all its deeps : " The passing bell proclaims it here— The mystic midnight of the year, Sacred to death and birth. In silence comes a year new-given, In silence goes the dead unshriven To all the past of earth. No click upon the wheel of time That marks the centuries sublime — No sound or sign is given, So glide a thousand years away, Serene as one unbroken day,— The endless day of heaven. Above, the calm and holy air, Below, the earth all silver-fair, All cold, and clear, and white; Starry and dim and heavenly still, The night goes on at his great will, Maker of night and light. In vast procession, grand and slow, The mighty constellations go HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. 201 Across their upper deep: Bencatli their still, unfaltering eyes, Our little world untroubled lies, A weary child asleep. Our little world; and yet how wide — "What stretch of lands and seas divide Beneath the self-same skies! How long is time, how wide is space, Measured from one small hiding-place In these immensities! Out of the sweet and soothing night I lean a face with stars alight. And think of all I love. Or near or far, my swift thought runs, And circles round its chosen ones, Like the great thought above. Nor these alone, but all who lie At rest beneath this guardian sky, While tumults pause and cease, My taper sends its glow-worm spark Into the great world's outer dark, With hail of love and peace. friends beloved, God keep you all! Softly my prayers and blessings fall On each unconscious head. Your eyes from tears, your hearts from pain, Your homes with joy, your store with gain, Be kept and comforted. Live on, beloved, that life may be The richer for your ministry — One brightness, far and near; 1 dare not dream— you can not know, How poor were earth if you should go Out of its light and cheer! And you, unloved because unknown. Whose hearts still beat with mine, as one, God bless you all to-night! Your unknown dreams, your unheard prayers, Your secret hopes, and fears, and cares. Be precious in his sight. And if there be some hearts estranged. Who deem me false, who find me changed, Whose love from mine is riven, 14 202 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. O friends, where'er the blame may lie. Let it to-night forever die, Forgive, and be forgiven! There is no room for strife or hate, We are so small and God so great. And his all wrongs redress. Forget the blind, unworthy deed; Remember each heart's sorest need, Pity and tenderness. There's not enough of love to lose, There's not enough of joy to choose. That we should miss the least, But love need ask no doubtful leave; She still can give though none receive, And find the giving blest. O hearts that on my own take hold, hearts indifferent and cold. One blessing on you fall. Life is so weak, and fate so strong. And joy so short, and grief so long, God help and shield you all! kindred of one common blood, 1 give you pledge of brotherhood, Sworn to this heaven above. The word is poor, the gift is small, Broken and vain the deeds may fall, The will is all of love! The subjoined tender summing up of the last days of this angelic spirit is from Hattie Tyng Griswold: "The storms of the bitter Winter are upon us ; the whirling of the white flakes greets our dazzled eyes on every hand ; there are wild winds a-blowing; and in the solemn city of the dead whence we have come to-day there is only dreariness and desolation. We have left our friend there. It gives an added pang to death to bury a friend at such a season. There is something almost inviting in the sunny hill-top where our cemetery is situated, in Summer. The great trees lay their broad arms athwart the slope. The grassy paths are full of flowers. Daisies and butter- cups and purple violets dot them, and the wild rose swings its dainty sprays here and there. In the Autumn it is a mass of gorgeous color, with its flam- ing sumach and its golden rod; but in Winter it is so bleak, so cold, so deso- HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. 203 late, that we can not endure to come away and leave one we love in its icy embrace. "But after two years of constant suffering we can not weep that our friend has found her rest. She has gained the Nirvana which she yearned for, with such inexpressible yearning, during the long, solitary Winter nights when sleep stood aloof, with finger on her lip, and pressed its balm on every lid but hers. The watch has been long which she has kept, the waiting has been weary — many of the hours have been barbed with pain; but now we feel that she ' has the best Which heaven itself can give her— rest!' "Hers was a beautiful life and a beautiful death. She had a rich na- ture, both religious and poetical. Endowed with unusual intellectual j>ower, which was well trained and responded readily to calls upon it, it was accom- panied with great spiritual feeling and spiritual culture. She was deeply devotional in spirit, and found it difficult to understand why all her friends did not delight as she did, in prayer and praise. It was her deepest joy, and the indifference of many to it was to her a burden and a grief. She was a great quickener to the faith of others, and a stimulus to all who came under her influence, both spiritually and intellectually. She would have made an admirable minister of the gospel, and, I have no doubt, would have eventu- ally been found in that profession, had not death brought all her large, far- reaching plans to a sudden end. She would have found here a congenial sphere in which to labor, and would have wrought out great results in life and character among her people, I can not doubt. She had the seeing eye and the understanding heart. Nothing that was beautiful escaped her, in nature or in life. No ethereal haze upon the distant hills, no shimmer of silver waters through the trees, no smallest blossom in the sod, was lost to her vision. No smallest blossom of beauty in life and character among her friends bloomed for her in vain. She had a genius for discovering hidden merits. She drew forth much which was never disclosed to other eyes. Some hidden alchemy within herself drew forth the best of other lives. She was a delightful companion, full of wit and humor and repartee, and with an eye for all the comic side of hfe, she was never dull and morbid, or otherwise 204 OUR WOMAN WORKERS. than fresh and insjjiring. She was loved by everybody, though she had par- ticular sympathy with the young. "At the close of a life singularly beautiful and trusting, the fruits of that life were seen in the great calm of patient expectation, of serene waiting, the sublime confidence of the later hours. As the large activities of her years of labor passed before her in review, she yearned sometimes to stay and labor on. There was so much to do she cordd scarcely bear to think of being put upon the retired list at so early an hour; and, in addition to this, she had a hearty and genuine delight in life. The world contained much for her. She would have carried her joy of existence on into old age had such been her destiny; yet she was content when she heard the silver trumpet sounding her recall. It is well for her, but the hearts of her friends are heavy. The world has lost an earnest worker, every good and noble cause a faithful advocate, every burdened and oppressed soul a sympathizing friend, every religious movement a prayerful ally. Therefore the world is poorer. Such lives as hers are not counted in great numbers. She was one of the few who stood upon the heights of hfe. Every string in her nature was lofty and fine and attuned to song. Her hfe was rhythmic, it was melodious, it was the round- ing of a sphere. But the snow has fallen upon her, which no earthly sun will ever melt; its coldness separates us for all time, and we mourn her as one whose place no other can fill. Rosemary be upon her grave, and in our hearts remembrance. There is work for her beyond. It is well. Her mem- ory is both a benediction and an inspiration." Her principal story, "Mignonette," was written in 1865. "The True Immortality," read at the first anniversary of the Zetagathean (seekers after truth) Society, of the Divinity School at Tufts College, was considered very able. The following poem relates to the father and mother of Henrietta's husband : TWO WAYS. They had a son, an only son, Their hope and happiness and pride, With life's first honors nobly won, At manhood's golden gates he died. And year by year, with backward gaze From that great light receding slow; HENRIETTA A. BINGHAM. 20.' Through lonely, sad and toilsome ways. Down to their childless age they go. She keeps the memory like a shrine All incense-wreathed of heart and lip; With that dear presence now divine She never yields companionship. The pictured face thai Lights the wad. Whose garlands never know decay; The books from weary hands let fall. The garments never laid away. A thousand signs, with tender tone. Tell how the fond heart cheats its pain With semblance of a life not gone, That any hour may come again. She loves the green earth where he lies, And stars the sod with snowy bloom; And lingers, as in some sweet guise She met him at an open tomb. Her year is full of sacred days. Each with its special joy in him. She treasures up his words and ways Like jewels that no time can dim. Her life keeps young with all he loved; When those who loved him praise his worth, With strange, new pride her heart is moved, She feeds on manna not of earth. The mourner at her side is dumb, As in a dream he sees and hears; To him all arts of solace come Like music to unanswering ears. The poor memorials stir him not; He never meets the pictured eyes; If haply comes the theme unsought, He turns away with vague replies. In quiet uncomplaining frame He walks his daily duty's round; Life's workday interests the same. His thought ami purpose seem to bound. 206 °UB WOMAN WORKERS. But daily grows he grave and still. More bowed with care, more touched with age. No past delights his present till, No future plans his thoughts engage. His eyes have learned a far-off look; His head is bowed when none are by; He oftener reads one holy book Or muses lone and silently. Whate'er he feels, no moan is made, The secret burden none may know Nor tenderest pity dare invade That patient dignity of woe. For every pain her eyes are dim, She mourns with every heart bereft; A calm endurance fills for him The measure of the life that's left. A childless mother ne'er she feels, In every child she sees her own; No word or look in him reveals The father who has had a son. One wears the sorrow like a erown, Nor any life could live apart; And one its anguish smothers down, And hides it in a hidden heart. Which grief is saddest, who shall seek, Or which most beautiful to see, The love for which all words are weak Or that of which no word can be? A NIGHT RIDE. Roll on, tireless wheels! The city's lights fade out behind; Dim. ghostly shapes the way reveals A world