J THE LIFE AND LETTERS ELIZABETH, PRENTISS AUTHOR OF STEPPING HEAVENWARD .11 NEW YORK i> ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY 900 BROADWAY, COR. 20TH STREET copyright, By George L. Prentiss, 1882. EDWARD O. JENKINS, Printer avd Stereotyper, 20 North William Street, New York. ^:.^ This memoir was undertaken at the request of many of Mrs. Prentiss' old and most trusted friends, who felt that the story of her life should be given to the public. Much of it is in the nature of an autobiography. Her letters, which with extracts from her journals form the larger portion of its contents, begin when she was in her twentieth year, and continue almost to her last hour. They are full of details respecting herself, her home, her friends, and the books she wrote. A simple narra- tive, interspersed with personal reminiscences, and varied by a sketch of her father, and passing notices of others, who exerted a moulding influence upon her character, completes the story. A picture is thus presented of the life she lived and its chang- ing scenes, both on the natural and the spiritual side. While the work may fail to interest some readers, the hope is cher- ished that, like Stepping Heavenward, it will be welcomed into Christian homes and prove a blessing to many hearts ; thus realising the desire expressed in one of her last letters : Much of my experience of life has cost me a great price and I wish to use it for strengthening and comforting other souls. G. L. P. Kauinfels, September ii, 1882. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 1818-1839. I. Birth-place and Ancestry. The Payson Family. Seth Payson. Edward Payson. His Mother. A Sketch of his Life and Character. The Fervor of his Piety. Despondent Moods, and their Causes. His bright, natural Traits. How he prayed and preached. Conversa- tional Gift. Love to Christ. Triumphant Death i II. Birth and Childhood of Elizabeth Payson. Early Traits. Devotion to her Father. His Influence upon her. Letters to her Sister. Re- moval to New York. Reminiscences of the Payson Family 9 in. Recollections of Elizabeth's Girlhood by an early Friend and School- mate. Her own Picture of herself before her Father's Death. Favorite Resorts. Why God permits so much Suffering. Literary Tastes. Letters. " What are Little Babies For ? " Opens a School. Religious Interest 18 IV. The dominant Type of Religious Life and Thought in New England in the First Half of this Century. Literary Influences. Letter of Cyrus Hamlin. A strange Coincidence 26 vi CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 1840-1841. I. A memorable Experience. Letters to her Cousin. Goes to Richmond as a Teacher. Mr. Persico's School. Letters 30 IL Her Character as a Teacher. Letters. Incidents of School Life. Re- ligious Struggles, Aims, and Hope. Oppressive Heat and Weari- ness 42 III. Extracts from her Richmond Journal •. 50 CHAPTER III. PASSING FROM GIRLHOOD INTO WOMANHOOD. 1841-1845, I. At Home Again. Marriage of her Sister. Ill-health. Letters. Spirit- ual Aspiration and Conflict. Perfectionism. " Very, Very Happy." Work for Christ what makes Life attractive. Passages from her Journal. A Point of Difficulty 64 II. Returns to Richmond. Trials There. Letters. Illness. School Ex- periences. "To the Year 1843." Glimpses of her daily Life. Why her Scholars love her So. Homesick. A Black Wedding. What a Wife should be. " A Presentiment." Notes from her Diary ... , 73 III. Her Views of Love and Courtship, Visit of her Sister and Child. Let- ters. Sickness and Death of Friends. Ill-health. Undergoes a surgical Operation. Her Fortitude. Study of German. Fenelon. 83 CONTENTS. vn CHAPTER IV. THE YOUNG WIFE AND MOTHER. 1 845-1 850. I. Marriag-e and Settlement in New Bedford. Reminiscences. Letters. Birth of her First Child. Death of her Mother-in-Law. Letters. . 95 n. Birth of a Son. Death of her Mother. Her Grief. Letters. Eddy's Illness and her own Cares. A Family Gathering at Newburyport. Extracts from Eddy's Journal Hi III. Further Extracts from Eddy's Journal. Ill-Health. Visit to Newark. Death of her Brother-in-Law, S. S. Prentiss. His Character. Re- moval to Newark. Letters 118 CHAPTER V. IN THE SCHOOL OF SUFFERING. 1851-1858. I. Removal to New York, and first Summer there. Letters. Loss of Sleep and Anxiety about Eddy. Extracts from Eddy's Journal, Describing his last Illness and Death. Lines entitled, " To My Dying Eddy." 127 II. Birth of her Third Child. Reminiscences of a Sabbath Evening Talk. Story of the Baby's Sudden Illness and Death. Summer of 1852. Lines entitled, " My Nursery." 133 III. Summer at White Lake. Sudden Death of her Cousin, Miss Shipman. Quarantined. Little Susy's Six Birthdays. How she wrote it. The Flower of the Family. Her Motive in Writing it. Letter of Sympathy to a bereaved Mother. A Summer at the Seaside. Henry and Bessie 138 Vlll CONTENTS. IV. A memorable Year. Lines on the Anniversary of Eddy's Death. Ex- tracts from her Journal. Little Susy's S/x Teachers. The Teach- ers' Meeting. A New York Waif. Summer in the Country. Let- ters. Little Susy's Little Servants. Extracts from her Journal. " Alone with God." 143 V. Ready for new Trials. Dangerous Illness. Extracts from her Jour- nal. Visit to Greenwood. Sabbath Meditations. Birth of another Son. Her Husband resigns his Pastoral Charge. Voyage to Europe 155 CHAPTER VL IN RETREAT AMONG THE ALPS. 1858-1860. L Life Abroad. Letters about the Voyage, and the Journey from Havre to Switzerland. Chateau d'Oex. Letters from there. The Chfi,let Rosat. The Free Church of the Canton de Vaud. Pastor Panchaud. 160 IL Montreux. The Swiss Autumn. Castle of Chillon. Death and Sor- row of Friends at Home. Twilight Talks. Spring Flowers 170 IIL The Campagne Genevrier. Vevay. Beauty of the Region. Birth of a Son. Visit from Professor Smith. Excursion to Chamouni. Whooping-cough and Scarlet-fever among the Children. Doctor Curchod. Letters 176 IV. Paris. Sight-seeing. A sick Friend. London and its Environs. The Queen and Prince Albert. The Isle of Wight. Homeward 189 CHAPTER VIL THE STRUGGLE WITH ILL-HEALTH. 1861-1865. I. At Home again in New York. The Church of the Covenant. Increas- ing Ill-health. The Summer of 1861. Death of Louisa Payson CONTENTS. IX Hopkins. Extracts from her Journal. Summer of 1862. Letters. Despondency 201 II. Another care-worn Summer. Letters from Williamstown and Rocka- way. Hymn on Laying the Corner-stone of the Church of the Covenant 212 in. Happiness in her Children. The Summer of 1864. Letters from Hun- ter. Affliction among Friends 217 IV. Death of President Lincoln. Dedication of the Church of the Cove- nant. Growing Insomnia. Resolves to try the Water-cure. Its beneficial Effects. Summer at I^ewburgh. Reminiscences of an Excursion to Palz Point. Death of her Husband's Mother. Fu- neral of her Nephew, Edward Payson Hopkins 223 CHAPTER VIII. THE pastor's wife AND DAUGHTER OF CONSOLATION. 1866-1868. I. Happiness as a Pastor's Wife. Visits to Newport and Williamstown. Letters. The Great Portland Fire. First Summer at Dorset. The new Parsonage occupied. Second Summer at Dorset. Little Lou's Sayings and Doings. Project of a Cottage. Letters. The Little Preacher. Illness and Death of Mrs. Edward Payson and of Little Francis 230 II. Last Visit from Mrs. Steams. Visits to old Friends at Newport and Rochester. Letters. Goes to Dorset. Fred aftd Maria and Me. Letters 238 IIL Return to Town. Death of an old Friend. Letters and Notes of Love and Sympathy. An Old Ladies' Party. Scenes of Trouble and Dying Beds. Fifty Years Old. Letters 248 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. STEPPING HEAVENWARD. 1869. Death of Mrs. Steams. Her Character. Dangerous Illness of Prof. Smith. Death at the Parsonage. Letters. A Visit to Vassar Col- lege. Letters. Getting ready for the General Assembly. " Gates Ajar " 261 II. How she earned her Sleep. Writing for young Converts about speak- ing the Truth. Meeting of the general Assembly in the Church of the Covenant. Reunion, D.D.'s, and Strawberry Short-cake. " Enacting the Tiger." Getting Ready for Dorset. Letters 270 III. The new Home in Dorset. What it became to her. Letters from there 274 IV. Return to Town. Domestic Changes. Letters. "My Heart sides with God in everything." Visiting among the Poor. " Conflict isn't Sin." Publication of Stepping Heavenward. Her Misgivings about it. How it was received. Reminiscences by Miss E. A. Warner. Letters. The Rev. Wheelock Craig 277 V. Recollections by Mrs. Henrj^ B. Smith 288 CHAPTER X. ON THE MOUNT. 1870. I. A happy Year. Madame Guyon. What sweetens the Cup of earth- ly Trials and the Cup of earthly Joy. Death of Mrs. Julia B. CONTENTS. xi Cady. Her Usefulness. Sickness and Death of other Friends. " My Cup runneth over." Letters. " More Love to Thee, O Christ " 292 IL Her Silver Wedding. "/ have lived, I have loved." No Joy can put her out of Sympathy with the Trials of Friends. A Glance back- ward. Last Interview with a dying Friend. More Love and more Likeness to Christ. Funeral of a little Baby. Letters to Christian Friends 300 in. Lines on going to Dorset. A Cloud over her. Faber's Life. Loving Friends for one's own sake and loving them for Christ's sake. The Bible and the Christian Life. Dorset Society and Occupations. Counsels to a young Friend in Trouble. "Don't stop praying for your Life ! " Cure for the Heart-sickness caused by the Sight of human Imperfections. Fenelon's Teaching about Humiliation and being patient with Ourselves 307 IV. The Story Lizzie Tcld. Country and City. The Law of Christian Progress. Letters to a Friend bereft of three Children. Sudden Death of another Friend. " Go on ; step faster." Fenelon and his Influence upon her religious Life. Lines on her Indebtedness to him 314 CHAPTER XI. IN HER HOME. I. Home-life in New York 322 n. Home-life in Dorset 346 IIL Further Glimpses of her Dorset Life 356 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. THE TRIAL OF FAITH. 1871-1872. I. Two Years of Suffering. Its Nature and Causes. Spiritual Conflicts. Ill-health. Faith a Gift to be won by Prayer. Death-bed of Dr. Skinner. Visit to Philadelphia. " Daily Food." How to read the Bible so as to love it more. Letters of Sympathy and Counsel. "Prayer for Holiness brings Suffering." Perils of human Friend- ship 361 II. Her Husband called to Chicago. Lines on going to Dorset. Letters to young Friends on the Christian Life. Narrow Escape from Death. Feeling on returning to Town. Her " Praying Circle." The Chicago Fire. The true Art of Living. God our only safe Teacher. An easily-besetting Sin. Counsels to young Friends. Letters 373 III. "Holiness and Usefulness go hand-in-hand." No two Souls dealt with exactly alike. Visits to a stricken Home. Another Side of her Life. Visit to a Hospital. Christian Friendship. Letters to a bereaved Mother. Submission not inconsistent with Suffering. Thoughts at the Funeral of a little " Wee Davie." Assurance of Faith. Funeral of Prof. Hopkins. His Character 385 IV. Christian Parents to expect Piety in their Children. Perfection. " Peo- ple make too much Parade of their Troubles." " Higher Life " Doctrines. Letter to Mrs. Washburn. Last Visit to Williamstown 394 CHAPTER XIII. PEACEABLE FRUIT. 1 873-1 874. I. Effect of spiritual Conflict upon her religious Life. Overflowing Af- fections. Her Husband called to Union Theological Seminary. CONTENTS. xin Baptism of Suffering. The Character of lier Friendships. No per- fect Life. Prayer. " Only God can satisfy a Woman." Why human Friendship is a Snare. Letters 399 n. Goes to Dorset. Christian Example. At Work among her Flowers. Dangerous Illness. Her Feeling about Dying. Death an " Invita- tion " from Christ. " The Under-current bears Home." " More Love, more Love ! " A Trait of Character. Special Mercies. What makes a sweet Home. Letters 405 III. Change of Home and Life in New York. A Book about Robbie. Her Sympathy with young People. " I have in me two different Nat- ures." What Dr. De Witt said at the Grave of his Wife. The Way to meet little Trials. Faults in Prayer-meetings. How special Theories of the Christian Life are formed. Sudden Illness of Prof. Smith. Publication of Golden Hours. How it was received 414 IV. Incidents of the Year 1874. Starts a Bible-reading in Dorset. Be- gins to take Lessons in Painting. A Letter from her Teacher. Publication of Urbane and His Friends. Design of the Work. Her Views of the Christian Life. The Mystics. The Indwelling Christ. An Allegory 425 CHAPTER XIV. WORK AND PLAY. I 87 5-1 877. I. A Bible-reading in New York. Her Painting. " Grace for Grace." Death of a young Friend. The Summer at Dorset. Bible-read- ings there. Encompassed with Kindred. Typhoid Fever in the House. Watching and Waiting. The Return to Town. A Day of Family Rejoicing. Life a " Battle-field " ^ 439 II. The Moody and Sankey Meetings. Her Interest in them. Mr. Moody. Publication of Griselda. Goes to the Centennial. At Dorset again. Her Bible-readings. A Moody-meeting Convert. Visit to XIV CONTENTS. Montreal. Publication of The Home at Greylock. Her Theory of a happy Home. Marrying for Love. Her Sympathy with young Mothers. Letters 449 III. The Year 1877. Death of her Cousin, the Rev. Charles H. Payson. Last Illness and Death of Prof. Smith. " Let us take our Lot in Life just as it comes." Adorning one's Home. How much Time shall be given to it } God's Delight in His beautiful Creations. Death of Dr. Buck. Visiting the sick and bereaved. An Ill-turn. Goes to Dorset. The Strangeness of Life. Kauinfels. The Bible- reading. Letters 466 IV. Return to Town. Recollections of this Period. "Ordinary " Chris- tians and Spiritual Conflict. A tired Sunday Evening. " We may make an Idol of our Joy." Publication of Pemaquid. Kezia Millet 476 CHAPTER XV. FOREVER WITH THE LORD. 1878. I. Enters upon her last Year on Earth. A Letter about The Home at Greylock. Her Motive in writing Books. Visit to the Aquarium. About " Worry." Her Painting. Saturday Afternoons with her. What she was to her Friends. Resemblance to Madame de Brog- lie. Recollections of a Visit to East River. A Picture of her by an old Friend. Goes to Dorset. Second Advent Doctrine, Last Letters 485 n. Little Incidents and Details of her last Days on Earth. Last Visit to the Wofts. Sudden Illness. Last Bible-reading. Last Drive to Hager Brook. Reminiscence of a last Interview. Closing Scenes. Death. The Burial 507 Appendix 533 CHAPTER I. THE CHILD AXD THE GIRL. 1818-1839. I. Birth-place and Ancestry. Seth Payson. Edward Payson. His Mother. A Sketch of his Life and Character. The Fervor of his Piety. Despondent Moods and their Cause. Bright, natural Traits. How he prayed and preached. Conversational Gift. Love to Christ. Triumphant Death. Mrs. Prentiss was fortunate in the place of her birth. She first saw the light at Portland, Maine. Maine was then a district of Massachusetts, and Portland was its chief town and seaport, distinguished for beauty of situation, enterprise, intelligence, social refinement and all the best qualities of New England character. Not a few of the early settlers had come from Cape Cod and other parts of the old Bay State, and the blood of the Pilgrim Fathers ran in their veins. Among its leading citizens at that time were such men as Stephen Longfellow, Simon Greenleaf, Prentiss Mellen, Samuel Fessen- den, Ichabod Nichols, Edward Payson, and Asa Cummings ; men eminent for private and public virtue, and some of whom were destined to become still more widely known, by their own growing influence, or by the genius of their children. But while favored in the place of her birth, Mrs. Prentiss was more highly favored still in her parentage. For more than half a century the name of her father has been a household word among the churches not of New England only, but throughout the land and even beyond the sea. It is among the most beloved and honored in the annals of American piety.' He belonged to a very old Puritan stock, and to a • For many years after the publication of his Memoir, it was so often given to children at their baptism that at one time those who bore it, in and out of New England, were to be numbered by hundreds, if not thousands. " I once saw the deaths of three little Edward Paysons ia one paper," wrote Mrs. Prentiss in 1S53. 2 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. family noted during two centuries for the number of ministers of the Gospel who have sprung from it. The first in the line of his ancestry in this country was Edward, who came over in the brig Hopewell, William Burdeck, Master, in 1635-6, and settled in the town of Roxbury. He was a native of Nasing, Essex Co., England. Among his fellow-passengers in the Hopewell was Mary Eliot, then a young girl, sister of John Eliot, the illustrious "Apostle to the Indians." Some years later she became his wife. Their youngest son, Samuel, was father of the Rev. Phillips Payson, who was born at Dor- chester, Massachusetts, 1705, and settled at Walpole, in the same State, in 1730. He had four sons in the ministry, all, like himself, graduates of Harvard College. The youngest of these, the Rev. Seth Payson, D.D., Mrs. Prentiss' grandfather, was born September 30, 1758, was ordained and settled at Rindge, New Hampshire, December 4, 1782, and died ther^r, after a pastorate of thirty-seven years, February 26, 1820. His wife was Grata Payson, of Pomfret, Conn. He was a man widely known in his day and of much weight in the community, not only in his own profession but in civil life, also, having several times filled the office of State senator. When in 1819 a plan was formed to remove Willianis College to a more central location, and several towns competed for the honor, Dr. Payson was associated with Chancellor Kent of New York, and Governor John Cotton Smith of Connec- ticut, as a committee to decide upon the rival claims. He is described as possessing a sharp, vigorous intellect, a lively imagination, a very retentive memory, and was universally .esteemed as an able and faithful minister of Christ.' Edward, the eldest son of Seth and Grata Payson, was born at Rindge, July 25, 1783. His mother was noted for her piety, her womanly discretion, and her personal and mental graces. Edward was her first-born, and from his infancy to the last year of his life she lavished upon him her love and her prayers. The relation between them was very beautiful. » He was the author of a curious work entitled, " Proofs of the real Existence, and dangerous Tendency, of Illuminism." Charlestown, i8c2. By " llluminism " he means •an organised attempt, or conspiracy, to undermine the foundations of Christia.n society and establish upon its ruins the system of atheism. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 3 Ilis letters to her are models of filial devotion, and her letters to him are full of tenderness, good sense, and pious wisdom. He inherited some of her most striking traits, and through him they passed on to his youngest daughter, who often said that she owed her passion for the use of the pen and her fondness for rhyming to her grandmother Grata.' Edward Payson was in all respects a highly-gifted man. His genius was as marked as his piety. There is a charm about his name and the story of his life, that is not likely soon to pass away. He belonged to a class of men who seem to be chosen of Heaven to illustrate the subhme possibilities of Christian attainment — men of seraphic fervor of devotion, and whose one overmastering passion is to win souls foi Christ and to become wholly like Him themselves. Into this goodly fellowship he was early initiated. There is something startling in the depth and intensity of his religious emotions, as recorded in his journal and letters. Nor is it to be denied that they are often marred by a very morbid ele- ment. Like David Brainerd, the missionary saint of New England, to whom in certain features of his character he bore no little resemblance, Edward Payson was of a melancholy temperament and subject, therefore, to sudden and sharp alternations of feeling. While he had great capacity for en- joyment, his capacity for suffering was equally great. Nor were these native traits suppressed, or always overruled, by his religious faith ; on the contrary, they affected and modi- fied his whole Christian life. In its earlier stages, he was apt to lay too much stress by far upon fugitive " frames," and to mistake mere weariness, torpor, and even diseased action of body or mind, for coldness toward his Saviour. And almost to the end of his days he was, occasionally, visited by seasons of spiritual gloom and depression, which, no doubt, were chiefly, if not solely, the result of physical causes. It was an error that grew> readily out of the brooding introspection and self-anatomy which marked the religious habit of the times. The close connection between physical causes and mor- ■ " I spent part of last evening reading over some old letters of my grandmother's and never realised bcfiore what a remarkable woman she was both as to piety and talent."— From a letter oj Mrs. Prentiss, written in 1S64. 4 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. bid or abnormal conditions of the spiritual life, A\'as not as well understood then as it is now. Many things were ascribed to Satanic influence which should have been ascribed rather to unstrung ner\-es and loss of sleep, or to a violation of the laws of health.' The disturbing influence of ner\-ous and other bodily or mental disorders upon religious experi- ence deser\-es a fuller discussion than it has yet received. It is a subject which both modem science and modem thought, if guided by Christian wisdom, might help greatly to eluci- date. The morbid and melancholy element, however, was only a painful incident of his character. It tinged his life with a vein of deep sadness and led to undue severity of self-disci- pline : but it did not seriously impair the strength and beauty of his Christian manhood. It rather ser\"ed to bring them into fuller relief, and even to render more striking those bright natural traits — the sportive humor, the ready mother wit. the facetious pleasantry*, the keen sense of the ridiculous, and the wondrous story-telling gift — which made him a most delight- ful companion to young and old, to the wise and the unlet- tered alike. It sensed, moreover, to impart peculiar tender- ness to his pastoral intercourse, especially with members of his flock tried and tempted like as he was. He had learned how to counsel and comfort them by the things which he also had suffered. He may have been too exacting and harsh in dealing with himself: but in dealing with other souls nothing could exceed the gentleness, wisdom, and soothing influence of his ministrations. As a preacher he was the impersonation of simple, earnest, and impassioned utterance. Although not an orator in the ordinarj- sense of the term, he touched the hearts of his hear- ers with a power beyond the reach of any oratory. Some of ' In a letter to his mother, written when Elizabeth was three years old, he says : " E, has a terrible abscess, which we feared would prove too much for her slender constitu- tion. We were almost worn out with watching ; and, just as she began to mend, I was seized with a violent ague in my face, which gtive me incessant anguish for six days and nights together, and deprived me almost entirely of sleep. Three nights I did not close my eyes. \\"hen well nigh distracted with pain and loss of sleep, Satan was let loose npon me, to buffet me, and 1 verily thought would have driven me to desjjeration and madness." THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 5 his printed sermons are models in their kind ; that e.g. on " Sins estimated by the Light of Heaven," and that addressed to Seamen. His theology was a mild type of the old New En- gland Calvinism, modified, on the one hand, by the influence of his favorite authors — such as Thomas a Kempis, and Fenelon, the Puritan divines of the seventeenth century, John Newton and Richard Cecil — and on the other, by his own profound experience and seraphic love. Of his theology, his preaching and his piety alike, Christ was the living centre. His expressions of personal love to the Saviour are surpassed by nothing in the writings of the old mystics. Here is a passage from a letter to his mother, written while he was still a young pastor: I have sometimes heard of spells and charms to excite love, and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might cause others to love me. But how much do I now wish for some charm which should lead men to love the Saviour ! .... Could I paint a true likeness of Him, methinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration of all creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be heaven enough to hear Him praised and adored. But I can not paint Him ; I can not describe Him ; I can not make others love Him ; nay, I can not love Him a thousandth part so much as I ought myself. O, for an angel's tongue ! O, for the tongues of ten thousand angels, to sound His praises. He had a remarkable familiarity with the word of God and his mind seemed surcharged with its power. " You could not, in conversation, mention a passage of Scripture to him but you found his soul in harmony with it — the most apt illustra- tions would flow from his lips, the fire of devotion would beam from his eye, and you saw at once that not only could he deliver a sermon from it, but that the ordinary time allot- ted to a sermon would be exhausted before he could pour out the fullness of meaning which a sentence from the word of God presented to his mind." ' He was wonderfully gifted in prayer. Here all his intel- lectual, imaginative, and spiritual powers were fused into one and poured themselves forth in an unbroken stream of peni- tential and adoring affection. When he said, " Let us pray," a divine influence seemed to rest upon all present. His 1 The late President Wayi^^''. 6 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. prayers were not mere pious mental exercises, they were de- vout inspirations. No one can form an adequate conception of what Dr. Payson was from any of the productions of his pen. Admirable as his written sermons are, his extempore prayers and the gushings of his heart in familiar talk were altogether higher and more touching than anything he wrote. It was my custom to close my eyes when he began to pray, and it was always a letting down, a sort of rude fall, to open them again, when he had concluded, and find myself still on the earth. His prayers always took my spirit into the immediate presence of Christ, amid the glories of the spiritual world ; and to look round again on this familiar and comparatively misty earth was almost painful. At every prayer 1 heard him offer, during the seven years in which he was my spiritual guide, I never ceased to feel new astonish- ment, at the wonderful variety and depth and richness and even novelty of feeling and expression which were poured forth. This was a feeling with which ever}' hearer sympathised, and it is a fact well-known, that Chris- tians trained under his influence were generally remarkable for their devo- tional habits.' Dr. Payson possessed rare conversational powers and loved to wield them in the service of his Master. When in a genial mood — and the mild excitement of social intercourse generally put him in such a mood — his familiar talk was equally de- lightful and instructive. He was, in truth, an improvisatore. Quick perception, an almost intuitive insight into character, an inexhaustible fund of fresh, original thought and incident, the happiest illustrations, and a memory that never faltered in recalling what he had once read or seen, easy self-control, and ardent sympathies, all conspired to give him this pre- eminence. Without effort or any appearance of incongruity he could in turn be grave and gay, playful and serious. This came of the utter sincerity and genuineness of his character. There was nothing artificial about him ; nature and grace had full play and, so to say, constantly ran into each other. A keen observer, who knew him well, both in private and in public, testifies: "His facetiousness indeed was ever a near neighbor to his piety, if it was not a part of it ; and his most cheerful conversations, so far from putting his mind out of tune for acts of religious worship, seemed but a happy prepa- > Prof. Calvin E. Stowe, D.D. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 7 ration for the exercise of devotional feelings." ' This co- existence of serious with playful elements is often found in natures of unusual depth and richness, just as tragic and comic powers sometimes co-exist in a great poet. The same qualities that rendered him such a master of con- versation, lent a potent charm to his familiar religious talks in the prayer-meeting, at the fireside, or in the social circle. Always eager. to speak for his Master, he knew how to do it with a wise skill and a tenderness of feeling that disarmed prejudice and sometimes won the most determined foe. Even in administering reproof or rebuke there was the happiest union of tact and gentleness. "What makes you blush so?" said a reckless fellow in the stage, to a plain country girl, who was receiving the mail-bag at a post ofBce from the hand of the drixer. "What makes you blush so, my dear?" "Per- haps," said Dr. Payson, who sat near him and was unobserved till now, " Perhaps it is because some one spoke rudely to her when the stage was along here the last time." Edward Payson was graduated at Harvard College in the class of 1803. In the autumn of that year he took charge of an academy then recently established in Portland. Resigning this position in 1806, he returned home and devoted himself to the study of divinity under his father's care. He was licensed to preach in May, 1807, and a few months later re- ceived a unanimous call to Portland, where he was ordained in December of the same year. On the 8th of May, 1811, he was married to Ann Louisa Shipman, of New Haven, Conn. An extract from a manly letter to Miss Shipman, written a few weeks after their engagement, will show the spirit which inspired him both as a lover and a husband : When I wrote my first letter after my late visit, I felt almost angry with you and quite so with myself. And why angry with you ? Because I be- gan to fear you would prove a dangerous rival to my Lord and Master, and draw away my heart from His service. My Louisa, should this be the case, I should certainly hate you. I am Christ's ; I must be Christ's ; He has purchased me dearly, and I should hate the mother who bore me, if she proved even the innocent occasion of drawing me from Him. I feared ' The late Rev. Absalom Peters, D.D. 8 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. that you would do this. For a httle time the conflict of my feelings was dreadful beyond description. For a few moments I wished I had never seen you. Had you been a right hand, or a right eye, had you been the life-blood in my veins (and you are dear to me as either) I must have given you up, had 1 continued to feel as I did. But blessed be God, He has shown me my weakness only to strengthen me. I now feel very differently. I still love you dearly as ever, but my love leads me to Christ and x\oX.froin Him. Dr. Payson received repeated invitations to important churches in Boston and New York, but declining them all, continued in the Portland pastorate until his death, v/hich oc- curred October 22, 1827, in the forty-fifth year of his age. The closing months of his life were rendered memorable by an extraordinary triumph of Christian faith and patience, as well as of the power of mind over matter. His bodily suffer- ing and agonies were indescribable, but, like one of the old martyrs in the midst of the flames, he seemed to forget them all in the greatness of his spiritual joy. In a letter written shortly after his death, Mrs. Payson gives a touching account of the tender and thoughtful concern for her happiness which marked his last illness. Knowing, for example, that she would be compelled to part with her house, he was anxious to have a smaller one purchased and occupied at once, so that his presence in it for a little while might make it seem more home-like to her and to her children after he was gone. " To tell you (she adds) what he was the last six memorable weeks would be altogether beyond my skill. All who beheld him called his countenance angelic." She then repeats some of his farewell words to her. Begging that she would " not dwell upon his poor, shattered frame, but follow his blessed spirit to the realms of glory," he burst forth into an exultant song of delight, as if already he saw the King in His beauty ! The well-known letter to his sister Eliza, dated a few weeks before his departure, breathes the same spirit. Here is an extract from it : Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 5 upon my ear, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing- separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignifi- cant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as He approached, and now He fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun, exulting yet almost trem- bling while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unut- terable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants ; I want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion. But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings? why not speak only of our God and Redeemer.'' It is because I know not what to say — when I would speak of them my words are all swallowed up. And thus, gazing already upon the Beatific Vision, he passed on into glory. What is written concerning his Lord and Master might with almost literal truth have been inscribed over his grave : The seal of Thy house hath eaten me up. II. Birth and Childhood of Elizabeth Payson. Early Traits. Devotion to her Father. His Influence upon her. Letters to her Sister. Removal to New York. Reminiscences of the Payson Family. Elizabeth Payson was bom " about three o'clock " — so her father records it — on Tuesday afternoon, October 26. 181 8. She was the fifth of eight children, two of whom died in in- fancy. All good influences seem to have encircled her natal hour. In a letter to his mother, dated October 27, Dr Payson enumerates six special mercies, by which the happy event had been crowned. One of them was the gratification of the mother's " wish for a daughter rather than a son." Another was God's goodness to him in sparing both the mother and the child in spite of his fear that he should lose them. This fear, strangely enough, was occasioned by the unusual religious peace and comfort which he had been enjoying. He had a presentiment that in this way God was forearming him for 10 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. some extraordinary trial ; and the loss of his wife seemed to him most likely to be that trial. " God has been so gracious to me in spiritual things, that I thought He was preparing me for Louisa's death. Indeed it may be so still, and if so His will be done. Let Him take all — and if He leaves us Himself we still have all and abound." The next day he writes: Still God is kind to us. Louisa and the babe continue as well as we could desire. Truly, my cup runs over with blessings. I can still scarcely help thinking that God is preparing me for some severe trial ; but if He will grant me His presence as He does now, no trial can seem severe. Oh, could I now drop the body, I would stand and cry to all eternity without being wearv : God is holy, God is just, God is good ; God is wise and faith- ful and true. Either of His perfections alone is sufficient to furnish matter for an eternal, unwearied song. Could I sing upon paper I should break forth into singing, for day and night I can do nothing but sing •' Let the saints be joyful," etc., etc. But I must close. I can not send so much love and thankfulness to my parents as they deserve. My present happiness, all my happiness I ascribe under God to them and their prayers. Surely, a home inspired and ruled by such a spirit was a sweet home to be born into ! The notices of Elizabeth's childhood depict her as a dark- eyed, delicate little creature, of sylph-like form, reserved and shy in the presence of strangers, of a sweet disposition, and very intense in her sympathies. " Until I was three years old mother says I was a little angel," she once wrote to a friend. Her constitution was feeble, and she inherited from her father his high-strung nervous temperament. " I never knew what it was to feel well," she wrote in 1840. Severe pain in the side, fainting turns, the sick headache, and other ailments troubled her, more or less, from infancy. She had an eye wide open to the world about her, and quick to catch its varying aspects of light and beauty, whether on land or sea. The ships and wharves not far from her father's house, the observ- atory and fort on the hill overlooking Casco Bay, the White Mountains far away in the distance, Deering's oaks, the rope- walk, and the ancient burying-ground — these and other famil- iar objects of " the dear old town," commemorated by Long- fellow in his poem entitled " My Lost Youth," were indelibly fixed in her memory and followed her wherever she went, to THE CHILD AND THE GHiL. Il the end of her days. In her movements she was light-footed, venturesome to rashness, and at times wild with fun and frolic. Her whole being was so impressionable that things pleasant and things painful stamped themselves upon it as with the point of a diamond. Whatever she did, whatever she felt, she felt and did as for her life. Allusion has been made to the intensity of her sympathies. The sight or tale of suffer- ing would set her in a tremor of excitement ; and in her eager- ness to give relief she seemed ready for any sacrifice, however great. This trait arrested the observant eye of her father, and he expressed to Mrs. Payson his fear lest it might some day prove a real misfortune to the child. " She will be in danger of marrying a blind man, or a helpless cripple, out of pure sympathy," he once said. But by far the strongest of all the impressions of her child- hood related to her father. His presence was to her the hap- piest spot on earth, and any special expression of his affection would throw her into an ecstasy of delight. When he was away she pined for his return. " The children all send a great deal of love, and Elizabeth says, Do tell Papa to come home," wrote her mother to him, when she was six years old. Her recollections of her father were singularly vivid. She could describe minutely his domestic habits, how he looked and talked as he sat by the fireside or at the table, his delight in and skillful use of carpenters' tools, his ingenious devices for amusing her and diverting his own weariness as he lay sick in bed, e.g:, tearing up sheets of white paper into tiny bits, and then letting her pour them out of the window to " make be- lieve it snowed," or counting all the bristles in a clothes-brush, and then as she came in from school, holding it up and bid- ding her guess their number — his coolness and efficiency in the wild excitements of a conflagration, the calm deliberation with which he walked past the horror-stricken lookers on and cut the rope by which a suicide was suspended ; these and other incidents she would recall a third of a century after his death, as if she had just heard of or just witnessed them. To her child's imagination his memory seemed to be invested with the triple halo of father, hero, and saint. A little picture 12 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. of him was always near her. She never mentioned his name without tender affection and reverence. Nor is this at all strange. She was almost nine years old when he died ; and his influence, during these years, penetrated to her inmost being. She once said that of her father's virtues one only — punctuality — had descended to her. But here she was surely wrong. Not only did she owe to him some of the most strik- ing peculiarities of her physical and mental constitution, but her piety itself, if not inherited, was largely inspired and shaped by his. In the whole tone and expression of her ear- lier religious life, at least, one sees him clearly reflected. His devotional habits, in particular, left upon her an indelible im- pression. Once, when four or five years old, rushing by mis- take into his room, she found him prostrate upon his face — completely lost in prayer. A short time before her death, speaking of this scene to a friend, she remarked that the re- membrance of it had influenced her ever since. What some- body said of Sara Coleridge might indeed have been said with no less truth of Elizabeth Payson : "Her father had looked down into her eyes and left in them the light of his own." The only records of her childhood from her own pen con- sist of the following letters, written to her sister, while the lat- ter was passing a year in Boston. She was then nine years old. Portland, May i8, 1828. My Dear Sister : — I thank you for writing to such a little girl as I am, when you have so little time. I was going to study a little catechism which Miss Martin has got, but she said I could not learn it. I want to learn it. I do not like to stay so long at school. We have to write composition by dictation, as Miss Martin calls it. She reads to us out of a book a sentence at a time. We write it and then we write it again on our slates, because we do not always get the whole ; then we write it on a piece of paper. Miss Martin says I may say my Sunday-school [lesson] there. Mr. Mitchell has had a great many new books. I have been sick. Doctor Cummings has been here and says E. is better and he thinks he will not have a fever G. goes to school to Miss Libby, and H. goes to Master Jackson, H. sends his love. Good-bye. Your affectionate sister, E. Payson. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 1 3 Seffeniber 2q, 182S. My Dear Sister : — I think you were very kind to write to me, when you have so little time. I began to go to Mrs. Petrie's school a week ago yesterday. I stay at home Mon- days in the morning to assist in taking care of Charles or such little things as I can do. G. goes with me. When mother put Charles and him to bed, as soon as she had done praying with them, G. said, Mother, will this world be all burnt up when we are dead ? She said. Yes, my dear, it will. What, and all the dishes too ? will they melt like lead ? and will the ground be burnt up too ? O what a nasty fire it will make. I saw the North- ern lights last night. I sleep in a very large pleasant room in the bed with mother I have a very pleasant room for my baby-house over the porch which has two windows and a fire- place in it, and a little cupboard too. E. Wood and I are as intimate as ever. I suppose }^ou know that Mr. Wood is build- ing him a brick house. Mrs. Merril's little baby is dead. It was buried yesterday afternoon. Mr. Mussey lives across the street from us. He has a great many elm trees in his front yard. His house is three stories high and the trees reach to the top. We have heard two or three times from E. since he went away. Yesterday all the Sabbath-schools walked in a procession and then went to our meeting-house and Mr. William Cutter addressed them, I am your affectionate sister, E. Payson. Her feeble constitution exposed her to severe attacks of disease, and in May, 1830, she was brought to the verge of the grave by a violent fever. Her mother was deeply moved by this event, and while recording in her journal God's good- ness in sparing Elizabeth, wonders whether it is to the end that she may one day devote herself to her Saviour and do something for the *' honor of religion." In the latter part of 1830 Mrs. Payson removed to New York, where her eldest daughter opened a school for girls. It was during this resi- dence in New York that Elizabeth, at the age of twelve years, made a public confession of Christ and came to the Lord's table for the first time. She was received into the Bleecker street — now the Fourth avenue — Presbyterian church, then under the pastoral care of the Rev, Erskine Mason. D.D.. 14 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. May I, 1831. Toward the dose of the same year the family returned to Portland. In a letter addressed to her husband, one of Mrs. Prentiss' oldest friends now living, Miss Julia D. Willis, has fur- nished the following reminiscences of her early years. While they confirm what has been said about her childhood, they are especially valuable for the glimpses they give of her father and mother and sister. The Willis and Payson families were very intimate and warmly attached to each other. Mr. Nathaniel Willis, the father of N. P. Willis the poet, was Avell known in connection with " The Boston Recorder," of which he was for many years the conductor and proprietor. Both Mr. and Mrs. W^illis cherished the most affectionate veneration for the memory of Dr. Payson. So long as she lived their house was a home to Mrs. Payson and her daughters, whenever they visited Boston.. As a preacher Dr. Payson could not fail to make a strong impression even on a child. Years ago in New York I once told Mrs. Prentiss, who was too young, at her father's death, to remember him well in the pulpit, that the only jjublic speaker who ever reminded me of him, was Edwin Booth in Hamlet. I surprised, and, I am afraid, a little shocked her, but it was quite true. The slender figure, the dark, brilliant eyes, the deep earnestness of tone, the rapid utterance combined with perfect distinctness of enunciation, in spite of surroundings the best calculated to repel such an association, recalled him vividly to my memory. My father's connection with the religious press alter his removal from Portland to Boston, brought many clergymen to our house, who often, in the kindness of their hearts, requited hospitality by religious conversation with the children, not church members, and presumably, therefore, impen- itent. I did not always appreciate this kindness as it desei-ved, and often exercised considerable ingenuity to avoid being alone with them. In Dr. Payson's case, I soon learned, on the contrary, to seek such occasions. I was sure that before long he would look up from his book, or his manu- script, and have something pleasant or playful to say to me. His general conversation, however, was oftener on religious than on any other subjects, but it was so evidently from the fullness of his heart, and his vivid imagina- tion afforded him such a wealth of illustration, that it was delightful even to an " impenitent " child. Years afterward when I read in his Memoir of his desponding temperament, of his seasons of gloom, of the sense of sin under which he was bowed down, it seemed impossible to me that it could be my Dr. Payson. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 1 5 I visited Portland and was an inmate of his family, at the commence- ment of the illness that finally proved fatal. He was not confined to his bed, or to his room, but he was forbidden, indeed unable, to preach, unable to write or study; he could only read and think. Still he did not shut him- self up in his study with his sad thoughts. I remember him as usually seated with his book by the side of the fire, surrounded by his family, as if he would enjoy their society as long as possible, and the children's play was never hushed on his account. Nor did he forget the young visitor. When the elder daughter, to whom my visit was made, was at school, he would care for my entertainment by telling a story, or propounding a rid- dle, or providing an entertaining book to beguile the time till Louisa's return Among the group in that cheerful room, T remember Lizzy well, a beau- tiful child, slender, dark-eyed, light-footed, very quiet, evidently observant, but saying little, affectionate, yet not demonstrative. One evening during my visit, Mrs. Payson not being quite well, the elders had retired early, leaving Louisa and myself by the side of the fire, she preparing her school lesson and I occupied in reading. The lesson fin- ished, Louisa proposed retiring, but I was too much interested in my book to leave it and promised to follow soon. She left me rather reluctantly, and 1 read on, too much absorbed in my book to notice the time, till near midnight, when I was startled by hearing Dr. Payson's step upon the stairs. I expected the reproof which I certainly deserved, but though evidently surprised at seeing me, he merely said, " You here ? you must be cold. Why did you let the fire go out ? " Bringing in some wood he soon re- kindled it, and began to talk to me of the book I was reading, which was one of Walter Scott's poems. He then spoke of a poem which he had been reading that day, Southey's " Curse of Kehama. " He related to me with perfect clearness the long and rather involved story, with that wonder- ful memory of his, never once forgetting or confusing the strange Oriental names, and repeating word for word the curse : I charm thy life, from the weapons of strife, From stone and from wood, from fire and from flood, From the serpent's tooth, and the beasts of blood, From sickness I charm thee, and time shall not harm thee, etc. , etc. I listened, intent, fascinated, forgot to ask why he was there instead of in his bed, forgot that it was midnight instead of mid-day. It was not till on bidding me good night he added, " 1 hope you will have a better night than I shall," that it occurred to me that he must be suffering. The next day I learned from his wife that when unable to sleep on account of his racking cough, he often left his bed at night, the cough being more endura- ble when in a sitting posture. I never saw Dr. Payson after that visit, nor for several years any of the family, except Louisa, who spent a year with us while attending school in Boston to fit herself as a teacher to aid in the 1 6 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. support of her younger brothers and sister. When I was next with them, Louisa was already at the head of a school in which her young sister was the brightest pupil, and to the profits of which she laid no personal claim, all going untouched into the family purse. Several young girls, Louisa's pupils, had been received as boarders in the family, and occasionally a clerg\-nian was added to the number. It was during this visit that I first learned to appreciate Mrs. Payson. Now that she stood alone at the head of the household, either her fine qualities were in bolder relief, or I being older, was better able to estimate them. The singular \-ivacity of her in- tellect made her a delightful companion. Then her youth had been passed in the literan,- circles of New Haven and Andover, and she had much to tell of distinguished people known to me only by reputation. I admired her firm yet gentle rule, so skilfully adapted to the var}ing natures under her charge; her conscientious study of that homely \irtue economy, so distasteful to one of her naturally lavish temper, always ready to give to those in need to an extent which called forth constant remonstrances from more prudent friends ; her alacrity also in all household labors, which the more excited my wonder, knowing the little opportunity she could have had to practise them amid the wealth of her father's house before the Embargo, which later wrecked his fortune with those of so many other New England merchants. She was, indeed, of a most noble nature, hating all meanness and injustice, and full of helpful kindness and sympathy. No woman ever had warmer or more devoted friends. Both at this time and in subsequent visits, as she advanced from child- hood to girlhood, I remember Lizz}' well ; although my attention was chiefly absorbed by the elder sister of my owti age, my principal com- panion when present, and correspondent when absent. The two sisters were strongly contrasted. Louisa, as a child, was afflicted with a sensitive, almost morbid shyness and reserve, and an incapacity for enjoying the so- ciety of other children whose tastes were imcongenial with her own. The shyness passed with her childhood, but the sensitiveness and exclusiveness never quite left her. Her love of books was a passion, and she would re- sent an unfair criticism of a favorite author as warmly as if it were an attack on a personal friend. To Lizz}-, on the contrary, a friend was a book which she loved to read. Human nature was her favorite study. There seemed to be no one in whom she could not find something to in- terest her, none with whom there was not some point of sjTnpathy. Com- bined with this wide and genial sympathy- was another quality which helped to endear her to her companions, viz., an entire absence of all attempt to show her best side, or put the best face on anything that concerned her. An ingenuous frankness about herself and her affairs — even about her little weaknesses — was one of her most striking traits. No one, indeed, could know her without learning to love her dearly. YeV if I should say that in my visits to Portland, Lizzy always appeared to me pre-eminently the life THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 1 7 and charm of the household, it would not be exactly true, though sh-; would have been so of almost any other household. The Payson family was a delightful one to visit, all were so bright, and in the contest of wits that took place often between Lizzy and her merr\- brothers, it was sometime*: hard to tell which bore off the palm. I do not know that I ever thought of her at that time as an author. If anybody had predicted to me that one of that group would be the writer of books, which would not only have a wide circulation at home, but be translated into loreign languages, I should certainly have selected Louisa, and I think most persons who knew them would have done the same. The elder sister's passion for books, her great powers of acquisition, the range of her attainments — embracing not only modem languages and their litera- ture, but Latin, Greek and Hebrew — her ability to maintain discussions on German metaphysics and theology* with learned Professors, all seemed to point her out as the one likely to achieve distinction in the literary world. I do not remember whether it was Lizzy's early contributions to " The Youth's Companion," showing already the germ of the creative power in her, or her letters to her sister, which first suggested to me that the pleas- ure her friends found in her conversation might yet be enjoyed by those who would never see her. Louisa had given up her school for the more congenial employment of contributing to magazines and re\iews and of writing children's books. And as the greater literary resources of Boston drew her thither, she was often for months a welcome gfuest at our hous';, where she first met Professor Hopkins of Williamstown, and whom she afterward married. The letters which Lizzy wrote to her at those times were never allowed to be the monopoly of one person ; we all claimed a right to read them. The ease with which in these she seemed to talk with her pen, the mingled pathos and humor with which she would relate all the little joys and sorrows of daily life, leaving her readers between a smUe and a tear, showed the same characteristics which afterward made her published writings so much more generally attractive than the g^ver ones of her elder sister. But Louisa's failing health soon after her marriage, and the long years of suffering which followed, prevented her ever doing justice to the expectations her friends had formed for her. The occasion of my next \isit to Portland was a letter from Mrs. Payson to my mother, who was her constant correspondent, in v/hich she spoke sadly of an indisposition she feared was the precursor of serious illness, but which chiefly troubled her on account of Lizzy's distress that her school prevented her being constantly with her mother. An offer on my part to come and take her place, in her hours of necessary absence, was at once accepted. Mrs. Payson 's illness proved less serious than had been feared, and once more I passed several pleasant weeks in that house; but the pleasantest hours of the day were those in which Lizzy, returning from school, sat doNx-n at her mother's bedside and amused her with her talk 2 1 8 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. about her pupils, their various characters and the progress they had made in their studies, or related little incidents of the school-room — with her usual frankness not omitting those which revealed some fault, or what she considered such, on her part, especially her impulsiveness that led her often to say things she afterward regretted. As an example, one of her pupils was reading French to her and coming to the expression Mon Dieu ! so common in French narratives, had pronounced it so badly that Lizzy ex- claimed, "Mon Doo ? He would not know himself what you meant ! " The laugh which it was impossible to repress, did not diminish her com- punction at what she feared her pupils would regard as irreverence on her part. I believe I always cherished sufficient affection for my teachers, and yet I was not a little astonished on accompanying Lizzy to school one day, to see as we turned the corner of a street a rush of girls with unbonneted heads, to greet their young teacher for whom they had been watching, and escort her to her throne in the school-room, and evidently in their hearts. For a year or two after this visit I have no recollection of her, or indeed of any of the Payson family. Death, meanwhile, had been busy in my own home, and my memory is a blank for anything beyond that sad circle. Since that date you have known her better than I. I wish that these recollections of a time when I knew h'er better than you, were not so meagre. If we were not thousands of miles apart, and I could talk with you, instead of writing to you, perhaps they would not appear quite so un- satisfying. Yet, trivial as they are, I send them, in the persuasion that any trifle that concerned her or hers is of interest to you. Geneva, Switzerland, Fed. I, 1879, III. Recollections of Elizabeth's Girlhood by an early Friend and Schoolmate. Her own Picture of Herself before her Father's Death. Favorite Resorts. Why God permits so much Suffering. Literary Tastes. Letters. "What are Little Babies For?" Opens a School. Religious Interest. It is to be regretted that the letters referred to by Miss Willis, and indeed nearly all of Elizabeth's family letters, written before she left her mother's roof, have disappeared. But the following recollections by Mrs. M. C. H. Clark, of Portland, will in part supply their place and serve to fill up the outline, already given, of the first twenty years of her life. In the volume of sketches entitled, " Only a Dandelion," you will find, in the story of Anna and Emily, some very pleasing incidents relating to the THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. I9 early life of clear Elizabeth. Anna was Lizzy Wood, her earliest playmate and friend. Miss Wood was a sweet girl, the only sister of Dr. William Wood, of Portland. She died at an early age. Emily was Mrs. Prentiss herself. I remember her once telling me about the visit at " Aunt W.'s," and believe that nearly all the details of the stor)' are founded in fact. It is her own picture of herself as a little girl, drawn to the life. Several traits of the character of Emily, as given in the sketch, are on this account worthy of special note. One is her very intense desire not only to be loved, but to be loved alone, or much more than any one else ; and to be assured of it "over and over again." When Anna returned from her journey, she brought the same presents to Susan Morton as to Emily, On discovering this fact Emily was greatly distressed. " I thought you would be so glad to get all these things ! " said Anna. " And so I am," said Emily," I only want you to love me better than any other little girl, because I love you better." " Well, and so 1 do," returned Anna ; " I love you ten times as well as I love Susan Morton."' This satisfied Emily, and " for many days her restless little heart was as quiet and happy as a lamb's." Another trait is brought out in the incident that occurred on her return- ing home from Anna's. She had written, or rather scratched, the word " Anna," over one whole side of her room, while odd lines of what pur- ported to be poetry filled the other. But this was not all. Her sister produced the beautiful Bible which had been given Emily by her Aunt Lucy, on her seventh birthday, and showed her father how all its blank leaves were covered with Annas. Her father took the book with reverence, and Emily understood and felt the seriousness with which he examined her idle scraMls. It was a look that would have risen up before her and made her stay her hand, should s'ne ever again in her life-long have been tempted thus to misuse the word of God ; just as the angel stood before Balaam in the narrow path he was struggling to push through. But Emily never again was thus tempted ; and ever after her Bible was sacredly kept free from "blot, or wrinkle, or any such thing." Her father now took her with him to his study, and gave her a great many pieces of paper, some large and some small, on which he told her with a smile, she could write Anna's name to her heart's content. Emily felt very grateful ; this little kindness on her father's part did lier more good than a month's lecture could have done, and made her resolve never to do anything that could possibly grieve him again. She went away to her own little baby-house and wrote on one of the bits of paper, some verses, in which she said she had the best father in the world. When they were done, she read them over once or twice, and admired them exceedingly ; after which, %vith a very mysterious air, she went and threw them into the kitchen fire. This incident, so prettily related, illustrates the intensity of her friend- ships, shows that she had begun to write verses when a mere child, and gives a very pleasant glimpse of her father and of her devotion to him. My intimate acquaintance with her commenced in 1832, when we were members of Miss Tyler's Sabbath-school class. Miss Tyler was a daughter 20 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. of Rev. Dr. Bennett Tyler, her father's succfessor. She was greatly pleased when I told her I was going to attend her sister's school, which was opened in the spring of 1833, on the corner of Middle and Lime streets. My seat was next to hers and we were placed in the same classes. Our homes were near each other on Franklin street, and we always walked back and forth together. She was at this time a proHfic writer of notes. Sometimes she would meet me on Monday morning with not less than four, written since we had parted on Saturday afternoon. She used to complain now and then, that I wrote her only one to four or five of hers to me. In the pleasant summer afternoons we loved to take long walks together. One was down by the shore behind the eastern promenade. Here we would find a sheltered nook, and with our backs to the world and our faces toward the islands and the ocean, would sit in " rapt enjoyment " of the scene, speaking scarcely a word, until one or the other exclaimed with a long- drawn sigh : " Well, it is time for us to go home." Another of our places of resort was the old cemetery on Congress street, which in those days was very retired. Our favorite spot here was the sum- mit of a tomb, which stood on the highest point in the grounds. It was the old style of tomb — a broad marble slab, supported by six small stone pillars on a stone foundation, and surrounded by two steps raised above the soil. It was a very quiet retreat. We could hear the distant hum of the city and at the same time enjoy a view of the water and shipping, as the land sloped down toward the harbor. I remember well that one dark spring day, as we sat there cuddled up under the broad slab, Lizzy gave me an account of a book she had just been reading. It was the Memoir of Miss Susanna Anthony, by old Dr. Hopkins, of Newport. She told me what a good and holy woman Miss Anthony was, how much she suffered and how beautifully she bore her suflferings. My sympathy was strongly excited and I exclaimed, " I do not see how it is rzg-/ii for God, who can control all things, to permit such suffering ! " Lizzy replied very sweetly, " Well, Carrie, we can't understand it, but I have been thinking that this mzg-^f be God's way of preparing His children for very high degrees of service on earth, or happiness in heaven-" I was deeply impressed with this remark ; somehow it seemed to stand by vie, and I think it was a corner-stone of her faith. This summer — that of 1833 — her mother fitted up for her exclusive use a small room called the " Blue Room," where she had all her books and treasures— among them a writing desk which had been her father's. Here all her leisure hours were spent. It was my privilege to be ad- mitted to this sanctuury, and many pleasant hours we passed together there. I think Elizabeth was always religious. She knew a great deal then about the Bible and often talked with me of divine things. She seemed to feel a deep interest in my spiritual welfare. She loved to share with me her favorite books. To her I was indebted for my acquaintance THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 21 with George Herbert, and with Wordsworth. She induced me to read "Owen on the 133d Psalm," and Flavel's "Fountain of Life." In 1834 we both began to attend the Free street Seminary, of which the Rev. Solomon Adams was then Principal. Her sister had become assistant teacher with him. Our desks adjoined each other and we were together a great deal. She was an admirable scholar, very studious, prompt and ready at recita- tion. Her influence and example, added to her friendship and sympathy, were invaluable to me at this period. One day, about this time, she told me of her engagement with Mr. Willis, to become a contributor to "The Youth's Companion." This paper was one of the first, if not the first, of its class published in this country, and had a wide circulation among the children throughout New England. Most of the pieces in " Only a Dan- delion," first appeared, I think, in the "Youth's Companion," among the rest several in verse. They are written in a sprightly style, are full of bright fancies as well as sound feeling and excellent sense, and foretoken plainly the author of the ' Susy ' books. In 1835 Lizzy went to Ipswich and spent the summer in the school there. It was then under the care of Miss Grant, and was the most noted institution of its kind in New England. A year or two later, Mr. N. P. Willis returned from Europe, and with his English bride made a short visit at Mrs. Payson's. Miss Payson talked with him of Elizabeth's taste for writing poetry and showed him some of her pieces. He praised and encouraged her warmly, and this was, I think, one of the influences that strengthened her in the purpose to become an author. Upon my telling her one day how much I liked a certain Sunday-school book I had just read, she smilingly asked, " What would you think if some day I should write a book as good as that ? " I saw a good deal of her home life at this time. It was full of filial and sisterly love and devotion. Amidst the household cares by which her mother was often weighed down and worried, she was an ever-near friend and sympathizer. To her brothers, too, she endeared herself exceedingly by her helpful, cheery ways and the strong vein of fun and mirthfulness which ran through her daily life. In the spring of 1837 Mrs. Payson sold her house on Franklin street and rented one in the upper part of the city. Lizzy used to call it " the pumpkin house," because it was old and ugly ; but its situation and the opportunity to indulge her rural tastes made amends for all its defects. In a letter to her friend Miss E. T. of Brooklyn, N. Y., dated May 21, 1837, she thus refers to it : Since your last letter arrived we have left our pleasant home for an old yellow one above John Neal's. Now don't imagine it to be a delicate straw-color, neither the smiling hue of the early dandelion. No, it once shone forth in all the glories of a deep pump- kin ; but time's " effacing fingers " have sadly marred its beauty. Mr. Neal's Aunt Ruth, a quiet old Quakeress, occupies a part of it and we Paysons bestow ourselves in the re- mainder. This comes to you from its great garret. Here I sit every night till after dark 22 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. as merry as a grig. " The mind is its own place." With all the inconveniencies of the house I would not exchange it at present for any other in the city. The situation is per- fectly delightful. Casco Bay and part of Deering's Oaks lie in full view. ' The Oaks are within a few minutes' walk. Back-Cove is seen beyond, and rising far above the blue ^\^^ite Mountains. The Arsenal stares us in the face, if we look out the end win- dows and the Westbrook meeting-house is nearer than Mr. Vail's by a quarter of a mile. I never believed there was anything half so fine in this reg^ion. I think nothing of walk- ing anywhere now. One day, after various domestic duties, I worked in my tiny garden four hours, and in the afternoon a party of girls came up for me to go with them to Bramhall's hill. We walked from three till half past six, came back and ate a hasty, with some of us a /tirious supper, and then all paraded down to second parish to sing- ing-school. I expect to live out in the air most of the summer. I mean to have as pleasant a one as possible, because we shall never live so near the Oaks and other pretty places another summer. If you were not so timid I should wish you were here to run about with me, but who ever heard of E. T. running? Now, Ellen, I never was meant to be dignified and sometimes — yea, often — I run, skip, hop, and once I did climb over a fence ! Very unladylike, I know, but I am not a lady. In the fall of 1837 Mrs. Payson moved again. The incident deserves mention, as it brought Lizzy into daily intercourse with the Rev. Mr. French and his wife. Mr. French was rector. of the Episcopal church in Portland, and afterward Professor and Chaplain at West Point. He was a man of fine literary culture and Mrs. French was a very attractive woman. In a letter dated "Night before Thanksgiving," and addressed to the early friend already mentioned, Lizzy refers to this removal and also gives a glimpse of her active home Hfe : I have been busy all day and am so tired I can scarcely hold a pen. Amidst the beat- ing of eggs, the j>ounding of spices, the furious rolling of pastry of all degrees of short- ness, the filling of pies with pumpkins, mince-meat, apples, and the like, the stoning of raisins and washing of currants, the beating and baking of cake, and all the other ings, (in all of v^hich I have had my share) thoughts of your ladyship have somehow squeezed themselves in. We have really bidden adieu to " Pumpkin Place," as Mrs. Willis calls it, and established ourselves in a house formerly occupied by old Parson Smith — and very snug and comfortable we are, I assure you. In the midst of our "moving," after I had packed and stowed and lifted, and been elbowed by all the shaip corners in the house, and had my hands all torn and scratched, I spied the new " Knickerbocker " 'mid a heap of rubbish and was tempted to peep into it. Lo and behold, the first thing that met my eye was the Lament of the Last Peach.' I didn't care to read more and forthwith returned to fitting of carpets and arranging ' I can see the breezy dome of groves. The shadows of Deering's Woods ; And the friendships old and the early loves Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves In quiet neighborhoods. And the verse of that sweet old song, It flutters and murmurs still : "A boy's will is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.;" —Longfellow's My Lost Yovth. * "The Lament of the Last Peach " had been written by her a year before when in THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 23 tables and chairs and bureaus— but all the while meditating how I should be revenged upon you. As to 's request I am sorry to answer nay ; for I feel it would be the greatest presumption in me to think of writing for a magazine like that. I do not wish to publish anything, anywhere, though it would be quite as wise as to entrust my scraps to yotir care. My mother often urges me to send little things which she happens to fancy, to this and that periodical. Without her interference nothing of mine would ever have found its way into print. But mammas look with rose-colored spectacles on the actions and performances of their offspring. Have you laughed over the Pickwick Papers .' We have almost laughed ourselves to death over them. I have not seen Lizzy D. for a long time, but hear she is getting along rapidly. If I could go to school two years more, I should be glad, but of course that is out of the question It is easier for you to write often than it is for me. You have not three tearing, gi'owing brothers to mend and make for. I am become quite expert in the arts of patching and darning. I am going to get some pies and cake and raisins and other goodies to send to our girl's sick brother. If I had not so dear and happy a home, I should envy you yours. You say you do not remember whether I love music or not. I love it extravagantly soviciimes — but have not the knowledge to enjoy scientific performances. The simple melody of a single voice is my delight. Mrs. French, the Episcopal minister's wife, who is a great friend of ours and lives next door (so near that she and sister talk together out of their windows), has a baby two days old with black curly hair and black eyes, and I shall have a nice time with it this winter. Do you love babies ? > The question with which this letter closes, suggests one of Lizzy's most Brooklyn, and her friend's brother had sent it to " The Knickerbocker," the popular Magazine of that day. Here it is : LAMENT OF THE LAST PEAdil. In solemn silence here I live, A lone, deserted peach ; So high that none but birds and winds My quiet bough can reach. And mournfully, and hopelessly, I think upon the past ; Upon my dear departed friends. And I, the last — the last. My friends ! oh, daily one by one I've seen them drop away ; Unheeding all the tears and prayers That vainly bade them stay. And here I hang alone, alone — While life is fleeing fast ; And sadly sigh that I am left The last, the last, the last. Farewell, then, thou my little world My home upon the tree, A sweet retreat, a quiet home Thou mayst no longer be ; The willow trees sta;:d weeping nigh, The sky is overcast. The autumn winds moan sadly by. And say, the last — the last ! 24 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. striking and loveliest traits. She had a perfect passion for babies, and reveled in tending, kissing, and playing with them. Here are some pretty lines in one of her girlish contributions to " The Youth's Companion," which express her feeling about them : What are little babies for ? Can they walk upon their feet ? Say ! say ! say ! Say ! say ! say ! Are they good-for-nothing things ? Can they even hold themselves ? Nay nay ! nay ! Nay ! nay ! nay ! Can they spwak a single word ? What are little babies for ? Say ! say ! say ! Say ! say ! say ! Can they help their mothers sew ? Are they made for us to love ? Nay 1 nay ! nay ! Yea! Yea ! ! \^A ! I ! In the fall of 1838 Mrs. Payson purchased a house in Cumberland street, which continued to be her residence until the family was broken up. You remember the charming little room Lizzy had fitted up over the hall in this house, how nicely she kept it, and how happy she was in it. One of the windows looked out on a little flower garden and at the close of the long summer days the sunset could be enjoyed from the west window. She had had some fine books given her, which, added to the previous store, made a somewhat rare collection for a young girl in those days. About this time, having been relieved of her part of domestic service by the coming into the family of a young relative — whose devotion to her was unbounded — she opened in the house a school for little girls. It consisted at first of perhaps eight or ten, but their number increased until the house could scarcely hold them. She was a born teacher and her young pupils fairly idolized her.' In this year, too, she took a class in the Sabbath- school composed of nearly the same group who surrounded her on the week-days, and they remained under her care as long as she lived in Portland. The Rev. Mr. Vail having retired from the pastorate of the second parish in the autumn of 1837, Cyrus Hamlin, just from the Theological Seminary at Bangor, became the stated supply for some months. His preaching attracted the young people and during the winter and spring there was much interest in all the Congregational churches. Following the example of the other pastors, Mr. Hamlin invited persons seriously dis- posed to meet him for religious conversation. Elizabeth besought me, with all possible earnestness and affection, to "go to Mr. Hamlin's meeting." One day she came to see me a short time before the hour, saying that I was ever on her mind and in her prayers, that she had talked with Mr. Hamlin about me, nor would she leave me until I had promised to attend the meeting. 1 did so ; and from that time we were united in the strong bonds of Christian love and sympathy. What a spiritual helper she was 1 " Dear Lizzy is in her little school. Her pupils love her dearly. She will have about thirty in the summer." — Letter 0/ A/rs. Payson, March 28, 1839. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 2$ to me in those days ! What precious notes I was all the time receiving from her! The memorj' of her tender, faithful friendship is still fresh and delightful, after the lapse of more than forty years.' In the summer of 1838 the Rev. Jonathan B. Condit, D.D., was called from his chair in Amherst College and installed pastor of our church. He was a man of very graceful and winning manners and wonderfully mag- netic. He at once became almost an object of worship with the enthu- siastic young people. The services of the Sabbath and the weekly meetings were delightful. The young ladies had a praying circle which met every Saturday afternoon, full of life and sunshine. Indeed, the exclusive inter- est of the season was religious ; our reading and conversation were relig- ious ; well-nigh the sole subject of thought was learning something new of our Saviour and His blessed service. All Lizzy's friends and several of her own family were rejoicing in hope. And she herself was radiant with joy. For a little while it seemed almost as if the shadows in the Christian path had fled away, and the crosses vanished out of sight. The winter and spring of 1840 witnessed another period of general religious interest in Portland. Large numbers were gathered into the churches. Lizzy was greatly impressed by the work, her own Christian life was deepened and widened, she was blessed in guiding several members of her beloved Sun- day-school class to the Saviour, and was thus prepared, also, for the sharp trial awaiting her in the autumn of the same year, when she left her home and mother for a long absence in Richmond. From her earliest years she was in the habit of keeping a journal, and she must have filled several volumes. I wonder that she did not preser\'e them as mementos of her childhood and youth. Perhaps because her after- life was so happy that she never needed to refer to such reminiscences of days gone by. I have thus given you, in a very informal manner, some recollections of her earlier years. I have been astonished to find how vividly I recalled scenes, events and conversations so long past. I was startled and shocked when the news came of her sudden death. But I can not feel that she was called to her rest too soon. She seemed to me singularly happy in all the relations of life ; and then as an author, hers was an exceptional case of full appreciation and success. I have ever regarded her as "favored among women " — blessed in doing her Master's will and testifying for Him, blessed in her home, in her friends, and in her work, and blessed in her death. Portland, December 31, 1878. * Three years later Elizabeth thus referred to this period in the life of her friend : — " During: the time in which she was seeking the Saviour with all her heart, I was much with her and had an opportunity to see every variety of feeling as she daily set the whole before me. The affection thus acquired is, I believe, never lost. If I live forever, I shall not lose the impressions which I then received — the deep anxiety I felt lest she should finally come short of salvation, and then the happiness of having her lost in contempla- tion of the character of Him whom she had so often declared it impossible to love." 26 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. IV. The Dominant Type of Religious Life and Thought in New England in the First Half of this Centuiy. Literary Influences. Letter of Cyrus Hamhn. A Strange Coin- cidence. A BRIEF notice of the general type of religious life and thought, which prevailed at this time in New England, will throw light upon both the preceding and following pages. Elizabeth's early Christian character, although largely shaped by that of her father, was also, like his, vitally affected by the religious spirit and methods then dominant. Several distinct elements entered into the piety of New England at that period, (i.) There was, first of all, the old Puritan element which the Pilgrim Fathers and their immediate successors brought with them from the mother-country, and which had been nourished by the writings of the great Puritan divines of the seventeenth century — such as Baxter, Howe, Bunyan, Owen, Matthew Henry, and Flavel — by the " Imitation of Christ," and Bishop Taylor's " Holy Living and Dying," and by such writers as Doddridge, Watts, and Jonathan Edwards of the last century. This lay at the foundation of the whole structure, giving it strength, solidity, earnestness, and power. (2.) But it was modified by the so-called Evangelical element, which marked large sections of the Church of England and most of the Dissenting bodies in Great Britain during the last half of the eighteenth and the early part of the nineteenth century. The writings of John Newton, Richard Cecil, Han- nah More, Thomas Scott, Cowper, Wilberforce, Leigh Rich- mond, John Foster, Andrew Fuller, and Robert Hall — not to mention others — were widely circulated in New England and had great influence in its pulpits and its Christian homes. Their admirable spirit infused itself into thousands of lives, and helped in many ways to improve the general tone both of theological and devotional sentiment. (3.) But another ele- ment still was the new Evangelistic spirit, which inaugurated and still informs those great movements of Christian benevo- lence, both at home and abroad, that are the glory of the age. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 2/ Dr. Payson's ministry began just before the formation of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and before his death mission-work had come to be regarded as quite essential to the piety and prosperity of the Church. The Lives of David Brainerd, Henry Martyn, Harriet Newell, and others like them, were household books. (4.) Nor should the " revival " element be omitted in enumerating the forces that then shaped the piety and religious thought of New England. The growth of the Church and the advancement of the cause of Christ were regarded as inseparable from this influence. A revival was the constant object of prayer and effort on the part of earnest pastors and of the more devout among the people. Far more stress was laid upon special seasons and measures of spiritual interest and activity than now — less upon Christian nurture as a means of grace, and upon the steady, normal development of church life. Many of the most eminent, devoted, and useful servants of Christ, whose names, during the last half century, have adorned the annals of American faith and zeal, owed their conversion, or, if not their conversion, some of their noblest and strongest Christian impulses, to "revivals of religion." (5.) To all these should, perhaps, be added another element — namely, that of the new spirit of reform and the new ethical tone, which, during the third and fourth decades of this century especially, wrought with such power in New England. Of this influence and of the philanthropic idea that inspired it, Dr. Channing may be regarded as the most eminent representative. It brought to the front the humanity and moral teaching of Christ, as at once the pattern and rule of all true progress, whether individual or social ; and it was widely felt, even where it was not distinctly recognised or understood. What- ever errors or imperfections may have belonged to it, this in- fluence did much to soften the dogmatism of opinion, to arouse a more generous, catholic type of sentiment, to show that the piety of the New Testament is a principle of universal love to man, as well as of love to God, and to emphasise the sovereign claims of personal virtue and social justice. These truths, to be sure, were not new ; but in the great moral- 28 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. reform movements and conflicts — to a certain extent even in theological discussions — that marked the times, they were as- serted and applied with extraordinary clearness and energy of conviction ; and, as the event has proved, they were harbingers of a new era of Christian thought, culture and conduct, both in private and public life. Such were some of the religious influences which surrounded Mrs. Prentiss during the first twenty years of her life, and which helped to form her character. She was also strongly affected, especially while passing from girlhood into early womanhood, by the literary influences of the day. Poetry and fiction were her delight. She was very fond of Words- worth, Tennyson, and Longfellow ; while the successive vol- umes of Dickens were read by her with the utmost avidity. Mrs. Payson's house was a good deal visited by scholars and men of culture. Her eldest daughter had already become somewhat widely known by her writings. In the extent, variety and character of her attainments she was, in truth, a marvel. Indeed, she quite overshadowed the younger sister by her learning and her highly intellectual conversation. And yet Elizabeth also attracted no little attention from some who had been first drawn to the house by their friendship for Louisa.' Among her warmest admirers was Mr. John Neal, then well known as a man of letters ; he predicted for her a bright career as an author. Still, it was her personal character that most interested the visitors at her mother's house. This may be illustrated by an extract from a letter of Mr. Hamlin to a friend of the family in New York, written in April, 1838, while he was their temporary pastor. Mr. Hamlin has since become known throughout the Christian world by his remark- able career as a missionary in Turkey, and as organiser of Robert College. A few months after the letter was written he set sail for Constantinople, accompanied by his wife, whose 1 Old friends of her father also became much interested in her. Among them was Simon Greenleaf, the eminent writer on the law of evidence, and Judge Story's successor at Harvard. On removing to Cambridge, in 1S33, he gave her with his autograph a lit- tle volume entitled, " Hours for Heaven ; a small but choice selection of prayers, from eminent Divines of the Church of England," which long continued to be one of her books of devotion. THE CHILD AND THE GIRL. 29 early death was the cause of so much grief among all who knew her." I should like to write a long letter about dear Elizabeth. I have seen her more since Louisa left and I love her more. She has a peculiar charm for me. I think she has a quick and excellent judgment, refined sensibil- ities, and an instinctive perception of what is fie and proper It seems to me there is a great deal of purity — of the spiritiicJlc — about her feelings. But I can not tell you exactly what it is that makes me think so highly of her. It is a nameless something resulting from her whole self, fi-om her sweet face and mouth, her eye full of love and soul, her form and motion. I do not think she likes me much, I have paid so much attention to Louisa and so little to herself. Yet she is not one of those who claiin attention, but rather shrinks from it. She may have faults of which I have no knowledge. But 1 am charmed with everything I have seen of her. How strange are the chance coincidences of human life ! In another letter to the same friend in New York, in which Mr. Hamlin refers in a similar manner to Elizabeth, occur these words : In a few weeks I hope to be in Dorset, among the Green Mountains, where my thoughts and feelings have their centre above all places on this earth. 1 wish you could be present at my wedding there on the third of September. How little did he dream, when penning these words, or did his friend dream while reading them, that, after the lapse of more than forty years, the " dear Elizabeth " would find her grave near by the old parsonage in which that wedding was to be celebrated, while the dust of the lovely daughter of Dorset would be sleeping on the distant shores of the Bos- phorus ! ' See the touching^ memorial of her, " Li^ht on the Dark River," prepared by her early friend, Mrs. Lawrence. CHAPTER II. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 1 840- 1 841. I. A Memorable Experience. Letters to her Cousin. Goes to Richmond as a Teacher. Mr. Persico's School. Letters. Miss Payson was now in her twenty-first year, a period which she always looked back to as a turning-point in her spiritual history. The domestic influences that encompassed her childhood, her early associations, and the books of devo- tion which she read, all conspired to imbue her with an earnest sense of divine things, and while yet a young girl, as we have seen, she publicly devoted herself to the service of her God and Saviour. For several years her piety, if marked by no special features, was still regarded by her young friends, and by all who knew her, as of a decided character. But during the general religious interest in the winter of 1837-8, even while absorbed in solicitude for others, she began herself to question its reality. " For some months I had no hope that I was a Christian, and pride made me go on just as if I felt myself perfectly safe. Nothing could at that time have made me willing to have any eye a witness to my daily struggles." And yet she " often longed for the sympathy and assistance of Christian friends," and to her unwillingness to confide in them she afterwards attributed m-uch of the suffering that fol- lowed. " I do not knoAv exactly how I passed out of that season, but my school commenced in April, and I became so interested in it that I had less time to think of and to watch myself. The next winter most of my scholars were deeply (30) THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 3I impressed by divine things, and, of course, I could not look on without having my own heart touched. It was my privilege to spend many delightful weeks in watching the progress of minds earnestly seeking the way of life and early consecrat- ing themselves to their Saviour." ' But after a while a se- vere reaction set in and in the course of the summer she be- came careless in her religious habits, shrank from the Lord's table as a " place of absolute torture," and while spending a fortnight in Boston in the fall, entirely omitted all exercises of private devotion. She had now reached a crisis which was to decide her course for life. During the winter of 1839-40, she passed through very deep and harrowing exercises of soul. Her spiritual nat- ure was shaken to its foundation, and she could say with the Psalmist, Ou^ of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord. For several months she was in a state similar to that which the old divines depict so vividly as being " under conviction." Her sense of sin, and of her own unworthiness in the sight of God, grew more and more intense and oppressive. At times she abandoned all hope, accused herself of having played the hypocrite, and fancied she was given over to hardness of heart. At length she sought counsel of her pastor and confided to him her trouble, but he " did not know exactly what to do with me." In the midst of her distress, and as its efTect, no doubt, she was taken ill and confined to her room, where in solitude she passed several weeks seeking rest and finding none. " Sometimes I tried to pray, but this only increased my distress and made me cry out for annihilation to free me from the agony which seemed insupportable." With a single interval of comparative indifference, this state of mind con- tinued for nearly four months. She thus describes it : It was in vain that I sought the Lord in any of the lofty path- ways through which my heart wished to go. At last I found it ' She refers to this, doubtless, in a note to Mr. Hamh'n, dated March 28, 1839. Mr. H. was then in Constantinople. " It seems as if a letter to go so far ought to be a good one, so I am afraid to wTite to you. But we ' think to you ' every day, and hope you think of us sometimes. I have been so happy all winter that I have some happiness to spare, and if you need any you shall have as much as you want." ^ THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. impossible to carrj^ on the struggle any longer alone. I would gladly have put myself at the feet of a little child, if by so do- ing I could have found peace. I felt so guilty and the charac- ter of God appeared so perfect in its purity and holiness, that I knew not which way to turn. The sin which distressed me most of all was the rejection of the Saviour. This haunted me constantly and made me fly first to one thing and then another, in the hope of finding somewhere the peace which I would not accept from Him. It was at this time that I kept reading over the first twelve chapters of Doddridge's " Rise and Progress," — the rest of the book I abhorred. So great was my agony that I can only wonder at the goodness of Him who held my life in His hands, and would not permit me in the height of my de- spair to throw myself away. It was in this height of despair that thoughts of the infinite grace and love of Christ, which she says she had hitherto re- pelled, began to irradiate her soul. A sermon on His ability to save " unto the uttermost " deeply affected her.' " While listening to it my weary spirit rested itself, and I thought, ' surely it can not be wrong to think of the Saviour, although He is not mine.' With this conclusion I gave myself up to admire, to love and to praise Him, to wonder why I had never done so before, and to hope that all the great congregation around me were joining with me in acknowledging Him to be chief among ten thousand and the One altogether lovely." On going home she could at first scarcely believe in her own ident- ity, the feeling of peace and love to God and to all the world was so unlike the turbulent emotions that had long agitated her soul. " From this time my mind went slowly onward, examining the way step by step, trembling and afraid, yet filled with a calm contentment which made all the dealings of God with me appear just right. I know myself to be per- fectly helpless. I can not promise to do or to be anything; but I do want to put everything else aside, and to devote myself entirely to the service of Christ." Her account of this memorable experience is dated August 28, 1840. "While writing it," she adds, "I have often laid ' The sermon was preached by her pastor, the Rev. Dr. Condit, April 19th. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 33 aside my pen, to sit and think over in silent wonder the way in which the Lord has led me." How in later years she regarded certain features of this ex- perience, is not fully known. The record passed at once out of her hands, and until after her death was never seen by any- one, excepting the friend for whose eye it was written. Many of its details had, probably, faded entirely from her memory. It can not be doubted, however, that she would have judged her previous state much less severely, would hardly have charged it with hypocrisy, or denied that the Saviour had been graciously leading her, and that she had some real love to Him, before as well as after this crisis. So much may be inferred from the record itself and from the narrative in the preceding chapter. Her tender interest in the spiritual wel- fare of her friends and pupils, the high tone of religious senti- ment that marks her early writings, the books she delighted in, her filial devotion, the absolute sincerity of her character, all forbid any other conclusion.' The indications, too, are very plain that her morbidly-sensitive, melancholy tempera- ment had much to do with this experience. Her account of it shows, also, that her mind was unhappily affected by cer- tain false notions of the Christian life and ordinances then, and still, more or less prevalent — notions based upon a too narrow and legal conception of the Gospel. Hence, her shrinking * There is one thing I recall as showing- the very early religious tendency of Lizzy's mind. It was a little prayer -meeting which she held with a few little friends, as long ago as her sister kept school in the large parlor of the house on Middle street, before the death of her father. It assembled at odd hours and in odd places. I also remember her interest in the spiritual welfare of her young companions, after the return of the family from their sojourn in New Vork. She showed this by accompanying some of us, in the way of encouragement, to Dr. Tyler's inquiry-meeting. Then during the special relig- ious interest of 183S, she felt still more deeply and entered heartily into the rejoicing of those of us who at that time found "peace in believing." The next year I accompanied my elder sister Susan to Richmond, and during my absence she gave up her Christian hope and passed through a season of great darkness and despondency, emerging, how- ever, into the light upon a higher plane of religious experience and enjoyment. She sometimes thought this the very beginning of the life of faith in her soul. But as I used to say to her when the next year we were together at Richmond, it seemed to me quite impossible that any one who had not already received the grace of God, could have felt what she had felt and expressed. I do not doubt in the least that for years she had been a true follower of Christ. — Letter from Miss Ann Louisa P. Lord, dated Portland, December 30, 1878. 3 34 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. from the Lord's table as a place of " torture," instead of re- garding it in its true character, as instituted on purpose to feed hungry souls, like her own, with bread from heaven. But for all that, the experience was a blessed reality and, as these pages will attest, wrought a lasting change in her religious life. No doubt the Spirit of God was leading her through all its dark and terrible mazes. It virtually ended a conflict which the intensely proud elements of her nature rendered inevitable, if she was to become a true heroine of faith — the conflict between her Master's will and her own. Her Master conquered, and henceforth to her dying hour His will was the sovereign law of her existence, and its sweetest joy also. The following extracts from letters to her cousin, George E. Shipman, of New York, now widely known as the founder of a Foundling Home at Chicago, will throw additional light upon her state of mind at this period. Mr. Shipman was the friend to whom the account of her experience already men- tioned was addressed. He had just spent several weeks in Portland, and to his Christian sympathy, kindness, and coun- sels while there and during the two following years, she felt herself very deeply indebted.' Portland, August 0.2, 1840. I AM always wondering if any body in the world is the better off for my being in it. And so if I was of any comfort to you, I am very glad of it. I do want, I confess, the privilege of offer- ing you sometimes the wine and oil of consolation, and if I do it in such a way as to cause pain with my unskilful hand, why, you must forgive me Mr. talked to me as if he imagined me a blue-stocking. Just because my sister wears spectacles, folks take it for granted that I also am literary. Aug. 2^th. — You ask if I find it easy to engage in religious meditation, referring in particular to that on our final rest. This is another of my trials. I can not meditate upon anything, ex- cept indeed it be something quite the opposite of what I wish to occupy my mind. You know that some Christians are able 1 It may be proper to say here, that while but few of her letters are given entire, it has not been deemed needful specially to indicate aU the omissions. In some instances, also, where two letters, or passages of letters, relate to the same subject, they have been com- bined. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 35 in their solitary walks and rides to hold, all the time, commun- ion with God. I can very seldom do this. Yesterday I was obliged to take a long walk alone, and it was made very de- lightful in this way ; so that I quite forgot that I was alone. .... I am beginning to feel, that I have enough to do with- out looking out for a great, wide place in which to work, and to appreciate the simple lines : " The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask ; Room to denj' ourselves ; a road To bring us daily nearer God." Those words " daily nearer God " have an inexpressible charm for me. I long for such nearness to Him that all other objects shall fade into comparative insignificance, — so that to have a thought, a wish, a pleasure apart from Him shall be impossible. Sept. 12th. — At Sabbath-school this morning, while talking with my scholars about the Lord Jesus, my heart, which is often so cold and so stupid, seemed completely melted within me, with such a view of His wonderful, wonderful love for sinners, that I almost belived I had never felt it till then. Such a blessing is worth toiling and wrestling for a whole life. If a glimpse of our Saviour here upon earth can be so refresh- ing, so delightful, what will it be in heaven ! Sept. i^th. — I have been reading to-day some passages from Nevins' " Practical Thoughts." ' Perhaps you have seen them ; if so, do you remember two articles headed, *' I must pray more," and " I must pray differently " ? They interested me much because in some measure they express my own feelings. I have less and less confidence in frames, as they are called. I am glad that you think it better to have a few books and to read them over and over, for my own inclination leads me to that. One gets attached to them as to Christian friends. Do not hesitate to direct me over and over again, to go with diffi- culties and temptations and sin to the Saviour. I love to be led there and left there. Sometimes when the exceeding " sin- fulness of sin " becomes painfully apparent, there is nothing else for the soul to do but to lie in the dust before God, without ' An excellent little work by Rev. William Nevins, D.D. Dr. Nevins was pastor of the first Presbyterian Church in Baltimore, where he died in 1835, at the age of thirty- seven. He was one of the best preachers and most popular religious writers of his day. 36 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. a word of excuse, and that feeling of abasement in His sight is worth more than all the pleasures in the world You will believe me if I own myself tired, when I tell you that I made fourteen calls this afternoon. But even the unpleasant busi- ness of call-making has had one comfort. Some of the friends of whom I took leave, spoke so tenderly of Him whose name is so precious to His children that my heart warmed towards them instantly, and I thought it worth while to have parting hours, sad though they may be, if with them came so naturally thoughts of the Saviour. Besides, I have been thinking since I came home, that if I did not love Him, it could not be so re- freshing to hear unexpectedly of Him I did not know that mother had an)'^thing to do with your father's conversion, and when I mentioned it to her she seemed much surprised and said she did not know it herself. Pray tell me more of it, will you ? I have felt that if, in the course of my life, I should be the means of leading one soul to the Saviour, it would be worth staying in this world for no matter how many years. Did you ever read Miss Taylor's " Display " ? Sister says the character of Emily there is like mine. I think so myself save in the best point. We come now to an important change in her outward life. She had accepted an invitation to become a teacher in Mr. Persico's school at Richmond, Virginia. Mr. Persico was an Italian, a brother of the sculptor of that name, a number of whose works are seen at Washington. He early became in- terested in our institutions, and as soon as he was able, came to this country and settled in Philadelphia as an artist. He married a lady of that city, and afterward on account of her health went to Richmond, where he opened a boarding and day school for girls. There were four separate departments, one of which was under the sole care of Miss Payson. Her let- ters to her family, written at this time, have all been lost, but a full record of the larger portion of her Richmond life is preserved in letters to her cousin, Mr. Shipman. The follow- ing extracts from these letters show with what zeal she de- voted herself to her new calling and how absorbed her heart was still in the things of God. They also throw light upon some marked features of her character. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 37 Boston, September 23. I had, after leaving home, an attack of that terrible pain, of which I have told you, and believed myself very near death. It became a serious question whether, if God should so please, I could feel willing to die there alone, for I was among entire strangers. I never enjoyed more of His presence than that night when, sick and sad and full of pain, I felt it sweet to put myself in His hands to be disposed of in His own way. The attack referred to in this letter resembled angma pec- toris, a disease to which for many years she was led to con- sider herself liable. Whatever it may have been, its effect was excruciating. "Mother was telling me the other day," she wrote to a friend, " that in her long life she had never seen an individual suffer more severe bodily pain than she had often tried to relieve in me. I remember scores of such hours of real agony." In the present instance the attack was doubtless brought on, in part at least, by mental agitation. " No w^ords," she wTote a few months later, " can describe the anguish of my mind the night I left home ; it seemed to me that all the agony I had ever passed through was condensed into a small space, and I certainly believe that I should die, if left to a higher degree of such pain." Richmond, September yi, 1840. About twelve o'clock, when it was as dark as pitch, we were all ordered to prepare for a short walk. In single file then out we went. It seems that a bridge had been burned lately, and so we were all to go round on foot to another train of cars. There were dozens of bright, crackling bonfires lighted at short intervals all along, and as we wound down narrow, steep and rocky pathways, then up steps which had been rudely cut out in the side of the elevated ground, and as far as we could see before us could watch the long line of moving figures in all varieties of form and color, my spirits rose to the very tip- top of enjoyment. I wished 5'ou could have a picture of the whole scene, which, though one of real life, was to me at least exceedingly beautiful. We reached Richmond at one o'clock. Mr. Persico was waiting for us and received us cordially When I awoke at eight o'clock, I felt forlorn enough. Imagine, 38 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. if you can, the room in which I opened my eyes. It is in the attic, is very low and has two windows. My first thought was, " I never can be happ3^ in this miserable hole ; " but in a second this wicked feeling took flight, and I reproached myself for my ingratitude to Him who had preserved me through all my journey, had made much of it so delightful and profitable, and who still promised to be with me. Oct. 2. — I will try to give you some account of our doings, al- though we are not fully settled. We have risen at six so far, but intend to be up by five if we can wake. As soon as we are dressed I take my Bible out into the entry, where is a window and a quiet corner, and read and think until Louisa * is ready to give me our room and take my place. At nine we go into school, where Miss Lord * reads a prayer, and from that hour until twelve we are engaged with our respective classes. At twelve we have a recess of thirty minutes. This over, we re- turn again to school, where we stay until three, when we are to dine. All day Saturday we are free. This time we are to have Monday, too, as a special holiday, because of a great Whig convention which is turning the city upside-down. There is one pleasant thing, pleasant to me at least, of which I want to tell you. As Mr. Persico is not a religious man, I supposed we should have no blessing at the table, and was afraid I should get into the habit of failing to acknowledge God there. But I was much affected when, on going to dine the first day I came, he stood leaning silently and reverentially over his chair, as if to allow all of us time for that quiet lifting up of the heart which is ever acceptable in the sight of God. It is very impressive. Miss Lord reads prayers at night, and when Mrs. Persico comes home we are to have singing That passage in the 119th Psalm, of which you speak, is indeed delightful. I will tell you what were some of my medi- tations on it. I thought to myself that if God continued His faithfulness toward me, I shall have afflictions such as I now know nothing more of than the name, for I need them con- stantly. I have trembled ever since I came here at the host of new difficulties to which I am exposed. Surely I did again and again ask God to decide the question for me as to whether » Miss Ann Louisa P. Lord. * Miss Susan Lord. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 39 I should leave home or not, and believed that He had chosen for me. It certainly was against my own inclinations Oct. \2th. — This morning I had a new scholar, a pale, thin little girl who stammers, and when I spoke to her, and she was obliged to answer, the color spread over her face and neck as if she suffered the utmost mortification. I was glad when re- cess came, to draw her close to my side and to tell her that I had a friend afflicted in the same way, and that consequently, I should know how to understand and pity her. She held my hand fast in hers and the tears came stealing down one after another, as she leaned confidingly upon my shoulder, and I could not help crying too, with mingled feelings of gratitude and sorrow. Certain!}' it will be delightful to soothe and to console this poor little thing You do not like poetry and I have spent the best part of my life in reading or trying to write it. N. P. Willis told me some years ago, that if my hus- band had a soul, he would love me for the poetical in me, and advised me to save it for him. Oct. 2'jth. — Sometimes when I feel almost sure that the Sav- iour has accepted and forgiven me and that I belong to Him, I can only walk my room repeating over and over again, Ho7v wonderful ! And then when my mind strives to take in this love of Christ, it seems to struggle in vain with its own little- ness and falls back wear}' and exhausted, to toonder again at the heights and depths which surpass its comprehension If there is a spark of love in my heart for anybody, it is for this dear brother of mine, and the desire to have his education thorough and complete has grown with my growth. You, who are not a sister, can not understand the feelings with which I regard him, but they are such as to call forth unbound- ed love and gratitude toward those who show kindness to him. Nov. 2,d. — I have always felt a peculiar love for the passage that describes the walk to Emmaus. I have tried to analyse the feeling of pleasure which it invariably sheds over my heart when dwelling upon it, especially upon the words, "Jesus Him- self drew near and went with them," and these, " He made as though He would go further," but yielded to their urgent, "Abide with us." .... This is one of the comforts of the Christian ; God understands him fully whether he can explain his troubles or not. Sometimes I think all of a sudden that I 40 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. do not love the Saviour at all, and am ready to believe that all my pretended anxiety to serve Him has been but a matter of feeling and not of principle ; but of late I have been less dis- turbed by this imagination, as I find it extends to earthly friends who are dear to me as my own soul. I thought once yesterday that I didn't love anybody in the world and was per- fectly wretched in consequence. Nov. 12///. — The more I try to understand myself, the more I am puzzled. That I am a mixture of contradictions is the opinion I have long had of myself. I call it a compound of sincerity and reserve. Unless you see just what I mean in your own consciousness, I doubt whether I can explain it in words. With me it is both an open and a shut heart — open when and where and as far as I please, and shut as tight as a vise in the same way. I was probably born with this same mixture of frankness and reserve, having inherited the one from my mother and the other from my father I have often thought that, humanly speaking, it would be a strange, and surely a very sad thing if we none of us inherit any of our father's piety ; for when he prayed for his children it was, undoubtedly, that we might be very peculiarly the Lord's. H. was to be the missionary; but if he can not go himself, and is prospered in business, I hope he will be able to help send others. I have been frightened, of late, in thinking how little good I am doing in the world. And yet I believe that those who love to do good always find opportunities enough, wherever they are. Whether I shall do any here, I dare not try to guess. Dec. 3^. — How I thank you for the interest you take in mj Bible class. They are so attentive to every word I say that it makes me deeply feel the importance of seeking each of those words from the Holy Spirit. Many of them had not even a Bible of their own until now, nor were they in the habit of reading it at all. Among others there are two grand-daughters of Patrick Henry. I wish I could give you a picture of them, as they sit on Sabbath evening around the table with their eyes fixed so eagerly on my face, that if I did not feel that the Lord Jesus was present, I should be overwhelmed with con- fusion at my unworthiness Mr. Persico is a queer man. Last Sabbath Miss L. asked him if he had been to church. " Oui, Mile.," said he ; " vous etiez a I'eglise de I'homme — moi, THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 4I j'otais a Teglise de Dieu — dans les bois." There is the bell for prayers ; it is an hour since I began to write, but I have spent a great part of it with my eyes shut because I happened to feel more like meditating than writing, if you know what sort of a feeling that is. Oh, that we might be enabled to go onward day by day — and upward too. I have been making violent efforts for years to become meek and lowly in heart. At present I do hope that I am less irrita- ble than I used to be. It was no small comfort to me when sister was home last summer, to learn from her that I had suc- ceeded somewhat in my efforts. But though I have not often the last year been guilty of " harsh speeches," I have felt my pride tugging with all its might to kindle a great fire when some unexpected trial has caught me off my guard. I am per- suaded that real meekness dwells deep within the heart and that it is only to be gained by communion with our blessed Saviour, who when He was reviled, reviled not again. Sabbath Evening, ith. — I wanted to write last evening but had a worse pain in my side and left arm than I have had since I came here. While it lasted, which was an hour and a half, I had such pleasant thoughts for companions as would make any pain endurable. I was asking myself if, supposing God should please suddenly to take me away in the midst of life, whether I should feel willing and glad to go, and oh, it did seem delightful to think of it, and to feel sure that, sooner or later, the summons will come. Those pieces which you marked in the " Observer " I have read and like them exceedingly, especi- ally those about growth in grace You speak of the goodness of God to me in granting me so much of His pres- ence, while I am here away from all earthly friends. Indeed I want to be able to praise Him as I never yet have done, and I don't know where to begin. I have felt more pain in this sepa- ration from home on mother's account than any other, as I feel that she needs me at home to comfort and to love her. Since she lost her best earthly friend I have been her constant com- panion. I once had a secret desire for a missionary life, if God should see fit to prepare me for it, but when I spoke of it to mother she was so utterly overcome at its bare mention that I instantly promised I would never for any inducement leave or forsake her. I want you to pray for me that if poor mother's 42 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. right hand is made forever useless,' I may after this year be a right hand for her, and be enabled to make up somewhat to her for the loss of it by affection and tenderness and sympathy. .... I don't remember feeling any way in particular, when I first began to " write for the press," as you call it. I never could realise that more than half a dozen people would read my pieces. Besides, I have no desire of the sort you express, for fame. I care a great deal too much for the approbation of those I love and respect, but not a fig for that of those I don't like or don't know. II. Her Character as a Teacher. Letters. Incidents of School-Life. Religious Struggles, Aims, and Hopes. Oppressive Heat and Weariness. Miss Payson had been in Richmond but a short time before she became greatly endeared to Mr. and Mrs. Persico, and to the whole school. She had a rare natural gift for teaching. Fond of study herself, she knew how to inspire her pupils with the same feeling. Her method was excellent. It aimed not merely to impart knowledge but to elicit latent powers, and to remove difficulties out of the way. While decided and thorough, it was also very gentle, helpful, and sympathetic. She had a quick perception of mental diversi- ties, saw as by intuition the weak and the strong points of individual character, and was skillful in adapting her influence, as well as her instructions, to the peculiarities of every one under her care. The girls in her own special department almost idolised her. The parents also of some of them, who belonged to Richmond and its vicinity, seeing what she was doing for their daughters, sought her acquaintance and showed her the most grateful affection. Although her school labors were exacting, she carried on a large correspondence, spent a good deal of time in her favor- ite religious reading, and together with Miss Susan Lord, the ' Referring to a serious accident, by which her mother was for some time deprived of the use of her right hand. THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 43 senior teacher and an old Portland friend, pursued a course of study in French and Italian. At the table Mr. Persico spoke French, and in this way she was enabled to perfect herself in the practice of that language. Of her spiritual history and of incidents of her school life during the new year, some extracts from letters to her cousin will give her own account. Richmond, January 3, 1841. If I tell you that I am going to take under my especial care and protection one of the family — a little girl of eleven years whom nobody can manage at all, you may wonder why. I found on my plate at dinner a note from Mrs. Persico saying that if I wanted an opportunity of doing good, here was one ; that if Nannie could sleep in my room, etc., it might be of great benefit to her. The only reason why I hesitated was the fear that she might be in the way of our best hours. But I have thought all along that I was living too much at my ease, and wanted a place in which to deny myself for the sake of the One who yielded up every comfort for my sake. Nannie has a fine character but has been mismanaged at home, and since coming here. She often comes and puts her arms around me and says, " There is one in this house who loves me, I do know." I receive her as a trust from God, wath earnest prayer to Him that we may be enabled to be of use to her. From morning to night she is found fault with, and this is spoiling her temper and teaching her to be deceitful I have been reading lately the Memoir of Martyn. I have, of course, read it more than once before, but everything appears to me now in such a different light. I rejoice that I have been led to read the book just now. It has put within me new and peculiar de- sires to live wholly for the glory of God. Jan. 13///. — I understand the feeling about wishing one's self a dog, or an animal without a soul. I have sat and watched a little kitten frisking about in the sunshine till I could hardly help killing it in my envy — but oh, how different it is now ! I have felt lately that perhaps God has something for me to do in the world. I am satisfied, indeed, that in calling me nearer to Himself He has intended to prepare me for His service. Where that is to be is no concern of mine as yet. I only wish to belong to Him and wait for His will, whatever it may be. 44 THE LITE OF MRS. PRENTISS. Jan. \»^h. — I used to go through with prayer merely as a. duty, but now I look forward to the regular time for it, and hail opportunities for special seasons with such delight as I once knew nothing of. Sometimes my heart feels ready to break for the longing it hath for a nearer approach to the Lord Jesus than I can obtain without the use of words, and there is not a comer of the house which I can have to myself. I think sometimes that I should be thankful for the meanest place in the universe. You ask if I ever dream of seeing the Lord. Xo — I never did, neither should I think it desirable : but a few days ago, when I woke, I had fresh in my remembrance some precious words which, as I had been dreaming, He had spoken to me. It left an indescribable feeling of love and peace on mv mind- I seemed in my dream to be ver\- near Him. and that He was encouraging me to ask of Him all the things of which I felt the need. Jan. \ith. — I did not mean to write so much about myself, for when I took out my letter I was thinking of things and be- ings far above this world. I was thinking of the hour when the Christian first enters into the joy of his Lord, when the first note of the " new song " is borne to his ear. and the first view of the Lamb of God is granted to his eye. It seems to me as if the bliss of that one minute would fully compensate for all the toils and struggles he must go through here ; and then to remember the ages of happiness that begin at that point ! Oh, if the unseen presence of Jesus can make the heart to sing for joy in the midst of its sorrow and sin here, what will it be to dwell with Him forever ! My Bible class, which consists now of eighteen, is ever)- week more dear to me. I am glad that you think pK)or Nannie weil o5- She has an inquiring mind, and though before coming here she had received no religious instruction and had not even a Bible, she is now constantly asking me questions which prove her to be a first-rate thinker and reasoner. She went to the theatre last night and came home quit j disgusted, saying to herself, " I shouldn't like to die in the midst of such gayeties as these." She urged me to tell her if I thought it wrong for her to go, but I would not, because I did not want her to stay awav for my sake. I want her to settle the question fairly in her own mind and to be guided by her own conscience rather THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 45 than mine. She is so grateful and happy that, if the sacrifice had been greater, we should be glad that we had made it. And then if we can do her any good, how much reason we shall have to thank God for having placed her here I Feb. nth. — My thoughts of serious things should, perhaps, be called prayers, rather than anything else. I have constant need of looking up to God for help, so utterly weak and igno- rant am I and so dependent uf>on Him. Sometimes in my walks, especially those of the early morning, I take a verse from the " Daily Food " to think upon ; at others, if my mind is where I want it should be, everything seems to speak and suggest thoughts of my Heavenly Father, and when it is other- wise I feel as if that time had been wasted. This is not " keep- ing the mind on the stretctu" and is delightfully refreshing. All I wish is that I were always thus favored. As to a hasty temper, I know that anybody who ever lived with me, until with- in the last two or three years, could tell you of many instances of outbreaking passion. I am ashamed to say how recently the last real tempest occurred, but I will not spare myself. It was in the spring of 1838, and I did not eat anything for so long that I was ill in bed and barely escaped a fever. Mother nursed me so tenderly that, though she forgave me. I nrrer shall forgive myself. Since then I should not wish you to suppose that I have been perfectly- amiable, but for the last year I think I have been enabled in a measure to control my temp>er, but of that you know more than I do, as you had a fair sp)ecimen of what I am when with us last summer. It has often been a source of encouragement to me that everybody said I was gentle and amiable till my father's death, when I was nine years old. . . . While reading to-night that chapter in Mark, where it speaks of Jesus as walking on the sea, I was interested in thinking how frequently such scenes occur in our spiritual |>assage over the sea which is finally to land us on the shores of the home for which we long. " While they were toiling in rowing," Jesus went to them upon the water and " would have p>assed by " till He heard their cries, and then He manifested Himself unto them saying, "// is I." And when He came to them, the wind ceased and they "wondered." Surely we have often found in our toiling that Jesus was passing by and ready at the first trembling fear to speak the word of love and of consolation 4-6 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. and to give us the needed help, and then to leave us wojidering indeed at the infinite tenderness and kindness so unexpectedly vouchsafed for our relief. Feb. i2)th. — I do not think we should make our enjoyment of religion the greatest end of our struggle against sin. I never once had such an idea. I think we should fight against sin simply because it is something hateful to God, because it is something so utterly unlike the spirit of Christ, whom it is our privilege to strive to imitate in all things. On all points con- nected with the love I wish to give my Saviour, and the service I am to render Him, I feel that I want teaching and am glad to obtain assistance from any source. I hardly know how to answer your question. I do not have that constant sense of the Saviour's presence which I had here for a long time, neither do I feel that I love Him as I thought I did, but it is not always best to judge of ourselves by our feelings, but by the general principle and guiding desire of the mind. I do think that my prevailing aim is to do the will of God and to glorify Him in everything. Of this I have thought a great deal of late. I have not a very extensive sphere of action, but I want my con- duct, my every word and look and motion, to be fully under the influence of this desire for the honor of God. You can have no idea of the constant observation to which I am exposed here. Feb. 2xst. — I spent three hours this afternoon in taking care of a little black child (belonging to the house), who is very ill, and as I am not much used to such things, it excited and wor- ried me into a violent nervous headache. I finished Brain- erd's Life this afternoon, amid man}'^ doubts as to whether I ever loved the Lord at all, so different is my piety from that of this blessed and holy man. The book has been a favorite with me for years, but I never felt the influence of his life as I have while reading it of late. She alludes repeatedly in her correspondence to the delight which she found on the Sabbath in listening to that eminent preacher and divine, the Rev. Dr. Wm. S. Plumer, who was then settled in Richmond. In a letter to her cousin she writes : I have become much attached to him ; he seems more tWan THE NEW IJFE IN CHRIST. 47 half in heaven, and every word is full of solemnity and feeling, as if he had just held near intercourse with God. I wish that you could have listened with me to his sermons to-day. They have been, I think, blessed messages from God to my soul. All her letters at this time glow with religious fervor. " How wonderful is our divine Master!" she seemed to be always saying to herself. " It has become so delightful to me to speak of His love, of His holiness, of His purity, that when I try to write to those who know Him not, I hardly know what is worthy of even a mention, if He is to be forgotten." And several years afterwards she refers to this period as a time when she " shrank from everything that in the slightest degree interrupted her consciousness of God." The following letter to a friend, whose name will often re- cur in these pages, well illustrates her state of mind during the entire winter. Your very welcome letter, my dear Anna, arrived this after- ^ ,,. noon, and, as my labors for the week are over, I am glad To Miss ^11 > S Anna s. of a quiet hour in which to thank you for it. I do not Richmond, thank you simply because you have so soon answered Feb. 26, j^y letter, but because you have told me what no one else 1841. - ' -' could do so well about your own very dear self. When I wrote you I doubted very much whether I might even allude to the subject of religion, although I wished to do so, since that al- most exclusively has occupied my mind during the last year. I saw 5'ou in the midst of temptations to which I have ever been a stranger, but which I conceived to be decidedly unfavorable to growth in any of the graces which make up Christian character. It was not without hesitation that I ventured to yield to the promptings of my heart, and to refer to the only things which have at present much interest for it. I can not tell you how I do rejoice that you have been led to come out thus upon the Lord's side, and to consecrate yourself to His service. My own views and feelings have within the last year undergone such an en- tire change, that I have wished I could take now some such stand in the presence of all who have known me in days past, as this which you have taken. My first and only wish is hence- forth to live but for Him, who has graciously drawn my wan- 48 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS dering affections to Himself You speak of the faintness of your heart — but " they who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength," and I do believe the truth of these precious words; not only because they are those of God, but also be- cause my own experience adds happy witness to them. I have lived man}' years with only just enough of hope to keep me from actual despair. The least breath was sufficient to scatter it all and to leave me, fearful and afraid, to go over and over again the same ground ; thus allowing neither time nor strength for progress in the Christian course. I trust that you will not go through years of such unnecessary darkness and despondency. There is certainly enough in our Saviour, if we only open our eyes that we may see it, to solve every doubt and satisfy every longing of the heart; and He is willing to give it in full measure. When I contemplate the character of the Lord Jesus, I am filled with wonder which I can not express, and with unutterable desires to yield myself and my all to His hand, to be dealt with in His own way ; and His way is a blessed one, so that it is delightful to resign body and soul and spirit to Him, without a will opposed to His, without a care but to love Him more, without a sorrow which His love can not sanctify or remove. In following after Him faithfully and steadfastly, the feeblest hopes may be strengthened; and I trust that you will find in your own happy experience that "joy and peace" go hand in hand with love — so that in pro- portion to your devotion to the Saviour will be the blessedness of your life. When I begin I hardly know where to stop, and now I find myself almost at the end of my sheet before I have begun to say what I wish. This will only assure you that I love you a thousand times better than I did when I did not know that your heart was filled with hopes and affections like my own, and that I earnestly desire, if Providence permits us to enjoy intercourse in this or in any other waj'^, we may never lose sight of the one great truth that we are not our own. I pray you sometimes remember me at the throne of grace. The more I see of the Saviour, the more I feel my own weak- ness and helplessness and my need of His constant presence, and I can not help asking assistance from all those who love Him Oh, how sorry I am that I have come to the end ! I wish I had any faculty for expressing affection, so that I THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 49 might tell you how much I love and how often I think of you. . Her cousin having gone abroad, a break in the correspond- ence with him occurred about this time and continued for sev- eral months. In a letter to her friend, Miss Thurston, dated April 2 1st, she thus refers to her school : There are six of us teachers, five of them born in Maine — which is rather funny, as that is considered by most of the folks here as the place where the world comes to an end. Al- though the South lifts up its wings and crows over the North, it is glad enough to get its teachers there, and ministers too, and treats them very well when it gets them, into the bargain. We have in the school about one hundred and twenty-five pu- pils of all ages. I never knew till I came here the influence which early religious education exerts upon the whole future age. There is such a wonderful difference between most of these young people and those in the North, that you might al- most believe them another race of beings. Mrs. Persico is beautiful, intelligent, interesting, and pious. Mr. Persico is just as much like John Neal as difference of education and of circumstances can permit. Mr. N.'s strong sense of justice, his enthusiasm, his fun and wit, his independence and self-esteem, his tastes, too, as far as I know them, all exist in like degree in Mr. Persico. The early spring, with its profusion of flowers of every hue, so far in advance of the spring in her native State, gave her the utmost pleasure ; but as the summer approached, her health began to suffer. The heat was very intense, and hot weather always affected her unhappily. " I feel," she wrote, "as if I were in an oven with hot melted lead poured over my brain." Her old trouble, too — " organic disease of the heart " it was now suspected to be — caused her much discomfort. ** While writing," she says in one of her letters, " I am suffer- ing excruciating pain ; I can't call it anything else." Her physical condition naturally affected more or less her religious feelings. Under date of July 12th, she writes: 4 50 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. The word conflict expresses better than any other my general state from day to day. I have seemed of late like a straw floating upon the surface of a great ocean, blown hither and thither by every wind, and tossed from wave to wave without the rest of a moment. It was a mistake of mine to imagine that God ever intended man to rest in this world. I see that it is right and wise in Him to appoint it otherwise While suffering from my Saviour's absence, nothing interests me. But I was somewhat encouraged by reading in my fa- ther's memoir, and in reflecting that he passed through far greater spiritual conflicts than will probably ever be mine. .... I see now that it is not always best for us to have the light of God's countenance. Do not spend your time and strength in asking for me that blessing, but this — that I may be transformed into the image of Christ in His own time, in His own way. Early in August she left Richmond and flew homeward like a bird to its nest. III. Extracts from her Richmond Journal. Were her letters to her cousin the only record of Miss Payson's Richmond life, one might infer that they give a com- plete picture of it ; for they were written in the freedom and confidence of Christian friendship, with no thought that a third eye would ever see them. But it had another and hid- den side, of which her letters contain only a partial record. Her early habit of keeping a journal has been already referred to. She kept one at Richmond, and was prevented several years later from destroying it, as she had destroyed others, by the entreaty of the only person who ever saw it. This jour- nal depicts many of her most secret thoughts and feelings, both earthward and heavenward. Some passages in it are of too personal a nature for publication, but the following ex- THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 5 1 tracts seem fairly entitled to a place here, as they bring out several features of her character with sunlike clearness, and so will help to a better understanding of the ensuing narrative : Richmond, October 2, 1840. How funny it seems here ! Everything is so different from home ! I foresee that I shan' t live nearly a year under these new influences without changing my old self into something else. Heaven forbid that I should grow old because people treat me as if I were grown up ! I hate old young folks, \yell ! whoever should see me and my scholars would be at a loss to know wherein consists the difference between them and me. I am only a little girl after all, and yet folks do treat me as if I were as old and as wise as Methusaleh. And Mr. Persico says, " Oui, Madame." Oh ! oh ! oh ! It makes me feel so ashamed when these tall girls, these damsels whose hearts are developed as mine won't be these half dozen years (to say nothing of their minds), ask me if they may go to bed, if they may walk, if they may go to Mr. So-and-so's, and Miss Such-a-one's to buy — a stick of candy for aught I know. Oh, oh, oh ! I shall have to take airs upon myself. I shall have to leave off little words and use big ones. I shall have to leave off sitting curled up on my feet, turkey-fashion. I shall have to make wise speeches (But a word in your ear, Miss — I won't). Oct. 2']th. — This Richmond is a queer sort of a place and I should be as miserable in it as a fish out of water, only there is sunshine enough in my heart to make any old hole bright. In the first place, this dowdy chamber is in one view a perfect den — no carpet, whitewashed walls, loose windows that have the shaking palsy, fire-red hearth, blue paint instead of white, or rather a suspicion that there was once some blue paint here. But what do I care ? I'm as merry as a grig from morning till night. The little witches down-stairs love me dearly, every- body is kind, and — and — and — when everybody is locked out and I am locked into this same room, this low attic, there's not a king on the earth so rich, so happy as I ! Here is my little pet desk, here are my books, my papers. I can write and read and study and moralise, I don't pretend to say think — and then besides, every morning and every night, within these four walls, heaven itself refuses not to enter in and dwell — and I ?2 THE LIFE OF >fRS. FREXTISS. may grow better and better and happier and happier in bless- edness with which nothing may intermeddle. Mr. Persico is a man by himself, and quite interesting to me in one way, that is. in giving me something to puzzle out. I like him for his exquisite taste in the picture line and for hav- ing adorned his rooms with such fine ones — at least they're fine to my inexperienced eye ; for when I'm in the mood, I can go and sit and dream as it seemeth me good over them, and as I dream, won't good thoughts come into my heart ? As to Mrs. P., I hereby return my thanks to Nature for making her so beautiful She has a face and figure to fall in love with. K. has also a fine face and a delicate little figure. Miss 1 shall avoid as far as I can do so. I do not think her opinions and feelings would do me any good. She has a fine mind and likes to cul- tivate it, and for that I respect her, but she has nothing natu- ral and girlish in her, and I am persuaded, never had. She hates little children ; says she hates to hear them laugh, thinks them little fools. Why, how odd all this is to me ! I could as soon hate the angels in heaven and hate to hear them sing. That, to be sure, is my way, and the other way is hers — but somehow it doesn't seem good-hearted to be so ver}-, ver\' su- perior to children as to shun the little loving beautiful crea- tures. I don't believe I ever shall grow up ! But, Miss , I don't want to do you injustice, and I'm much obliged to you for all the flattering things you've said about me, and if you like my eyes and think there is congeniality of feeling between us, why, I thank you. But oh, don't teach me that the wisdom of the world consisteth in forswearing the simple beauties with which life is full. Don't make me fear my own happy girlhood by talking to me about love — oh, don't ! Dec. I. — I wonder if all the girls in the world are just alike ? Seems to me they might be so sweet and lovable if they'd leave off chattering forever and ever about lovers If mothers would keep their little unfledged birds under their own wings, wouldn't they make better mother-birds ? Now some girls down-stairs, who ought to be thinking about all the beautiful things in life but just lovers, are reading novels, love- stories and poetry, till they can't care for anything else Now, Lizzy Pay son, where's the use of fretting so ? Go right to work reading Leighton and you'll forget that all the world THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 53 isn't as wise as you think vou are, you little vain thing, you ! Alas and alas, but this is such a nice world, and the girls don't know it I D^c. 2. — What a pleasant walk I had this morning on Ambler's Hill. The sun rose while I was there and I was so happy ! The little valley, clothed with white houses and completely en- circled by hills, reminded me of the verse about the mountains round about Jerusalem. Nobody was awake so early and I had all the great hill to myself, and it was so beautiful that I could have thrown myself down and kissed the earth itself. Oh, sweet and good and loving Mother Nature ! I choose you for my own. I will be your little lady-love. I will hunt you out whenever you hide, and you shall comfort me when I am sad, and laugh with me when I'm merry, and take me by the hand and lead me onward and upward till the image of the heavenly forceth out that of the earthly from my whole heart and soul. Oh, how I prayed for a holy heart on that hillside and how sure I am that I shall grow better I and what companion- able thoughts I've had all day for that blessed walk ! 2>th. — My life is a nice little life just now, as regular as clock- work. We walk and we keep school, and our scholars kiss and love us, and we kiss and love them, and we read Lamartine and I worship Leighton, good, wise, holy Leighton, and we discourse about everj-thing together and dispute and argue and arg^e and dispute, and I'm quite happy, so I am I As to Lamartine, he's no great things, as I know of, but I want to keep up my knowledge of French and so we read twenty pages a day. And as to our discourses, my fidgety, moralising sort of mind wants to compare its doctrines with those of other people, though it's as stiff as a poker in its own opinions. You're a very con- sistent little girl ! you call yourself a child, are afraid to open your mouth before folks, and yet you're as obstinate and proud as a little man, daring to think for yourself and act accord- ingly at the risk of being called odd and incomprehensible. I don't care, though I Run on and break your neck if you will. You're nothing especial after all. gth. — To-night, in unrolling a bundle of work I found a little note therein from mother. Whew, how I kissed it I I thought I should fly out of my senses, I was so glad. But I can't fly Dow-a-days, I'm growing so unetherial. Why, I take up a lot 54 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. of room in the world and my frocks won't hold me. That's because my heart is so quiet, lying as still as a mouse, after all its tossings about and tn,-ing to be happy in the things of this life. Oh, I am so happ)' now in the other life I But as for tell- ing other people so — as for talking religion — I don't see how I can. It doesn't come natural. Is it because I am proud ? But I pray to be so holy, so truly a Christian, that my life shall speak and gently persuade all who see me to look for the hid- den spring of my perpetual happiness and quietness. The only question is : Do I live so ? I'm afraid I make religion seem too grave a thing to my watching maidens down-stairs ; but, oh, I'm afraid to rush into their pleasures. 25///. — .... I've been " our Lizzy " all my life and have not had to display my own private feelings and opinions before folks, but have sat still and listened and mused and lived with- in myself, and shut myself up in my corner of the house and speculated on life and the things thereof till I've got a set of notions of my own which don't Jit into the notions of anybody I know. I don't open myself to anybody on earth ; I can not ; there is a world of something in me which is not known to those about me and perhaps never will be ; but sometimes I think it would be delicious to love a mind like mine in some things, only better, wiser, nobler. I do not quite understand life. People don't live as they were made to live, I'm sure. . . . . I want soul. I want the gracious, glad spirit that finds the good and the beautiful in ever}"thing, joined to the manly, ex- alted intellect — rare unions, I am sure, yet possible ones. Lit- tle girl ! Do you suppose such a soul would find anything in yours to satisfy it ? No — no — no — I do not. I know I am a poor little goose which ought to be content with some equally poor little gander, but I wont. I'll never give up one inch of these the demands of my reason and of my heart for all the truths vou tell me about myself — never I But descend from your ele- vation, oh speculating child of mortality, and go down to school. Oh, no, no school for a week, and I guess I'll spend the week in fancies and follies. It won't hurt me. I've done it before and got back to the world as satisfied as ever, indeed I have. Jan. I, 1841. — We've been busy all the week getting our pres- ents ready for the ser\"ants, and a nice time I've had this morning, THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 55 seeing them show their ivor}- thereat. James made a little speech, the amount of which was, he hoped I wouldn't get mar- ried till I'd " done been " here two or three years, because my face was so pleasant it was good to look at it I I was as proud as Lucifer at this compliment, and shall certainly look pleasant all day to-day, if I never did before. Monsieur and the rest wished me, I won't say how many, good wishes, rushing at me as I went in to breakfast — and Milly privately informed Lucy that she liked Miss Payson " a heap " better than she did any body else, and then came and begged me to buy her I I buy her ! Heaven bless the poor little girl. I had some presents and af- fectionate notes from different members of the family and from my scholars — also letters from sister and Ned, which delighted me infinitely more than I'm going to tell you, old journal. Took tea at Mr. P.'s and Mrs. P. laughed at her husband because he had once an idea of going to New England to get my little ladyship to wife (for the sake of my father, of course). Mr. P. blushed like a boy and fidgeted terribly, but I didn't care a snap — I am not old enough to be wife to anybod)-, and I'm not going to mind if people do joke with me about it. I've had better things to think of on this New Year's day — good, heaven- ward thoughts and prayers and hopes, and if I do not become more and more transformed into the Divine, then are prayers and hopes things of nought. Oh, how dissatisfied I am with myself. How I long to be like unto Him into whose image I shall one day be changed when I see Him as He is I I believe nobody understands me on religious points, for I can not, and, it seems to me, n^ed not parade m}* private feelings be- fore the world. Cousin G., God bless him I knows enough, and yet my letters to him do not tell the hundredth part of that which these four walls might tell, if they would. I do not know that I am not wrong, but I do dislike the present style of talking on religious subjects. Let people pray — earnestly, fer\'ently, not simply morning and night, but the whole day long, making their lives one continued prayer ; but, oh, don't let them tell others of, or let others know half how much of communion with Heaven is known to their own hearts. Is it not true that those who talk most, go most to meetings, run hither and thither to all sorts of societies and all sorts of readings — is it not true that such people would not find peace and content- 56 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. ment — yes, blessedness of blessedness — in solitary hours when to the Searcher of hearts alone are known their aspirations and their love ? I do not know, I am puzzled ; but I may say here, where nobody will ever see it, what I do think, and I say it to my own heart as well as over the hearts of others — there is not enough of real, true communion with God, not enough near- ness to Him, not enough heart-searching before Him ; and too much parade and bustle and noise in doing His work on earth. Oh, I do not know exactly what I mean — but since I have heard so many apparently Christian people own that of this sense of nearness to God they know absolutely nothing — that they pray because it is their habit without the least expectation of meet- ing the great yet loving Father in their closets — since I have heard this I am troubled and perplexed. Why, is it not indeed true that the Christian believer, God's own adopted, chosen, beloved child, may speak face to face with his Father, humbly, reverently, yet as a man talketh with his friend ? Is it not true ? Do not I know that it is so ? Oh, I sometimes want the wisdom of an angel that I may not be thus disturbed and wearied. 14//;. — Now either Miss 's religion is wrong and mine right, or else it's just the other way. I wrote some verses, funny ones, and sent her to-day, and she returned for answer that verse in Proverbs about vinegar on nitre, and seemed dis- tressed that I ever had such worldly and funny thoughts. I told her I should like her better if she ever had any but solemn ones, whence we rushed into a discussion about proprieties and I maintained that a mind was not in a state of religious health, if it could not safely indulge in thoughts funny as funny could be. She shook her head and looked as glum as she could, and I'm really sorry that I vexed her righteous soul, though I'm sure I feel funny ever so much of the time, can not help saying funny things and cutting up capers now and then. I'll take care not to marry a glum man, anyhow ; not that I want my future lord and master to be a teller of stories, a wit, or a par- ticular!)^ funny man — but he shan't wear a long face and make me wear a long one, though he may be as pious as the day is long and must be, what's more. Oh, my ! I don't think I was so very naughty. I saw Miss laughing privately at these same verses, and she rushed in to Mrs. P. and read them to her, and then copied them for her aunt and paid twenty-five cents THE NEW LIFE IN CHRIST. 57 postage on the letter. I should like to know how she dared waste so much time in unholy employments ! As I was saying, and am always thinking, it's rather queer that people are so oddly different in their ideas of religion. Heaven forbid I should trifle with serious and holy thoughts of my head and heart — but if my religion is worth a straw, such verse-writing will not disturb it. Ja?iuary i6th. — I wonder what's got into me to-day — I feel cross, w'ithout the least bit of reason for so feeling. I guess I'm not well, for I'm sure I've felt like one great long sunbeam, I don't know how many months, and it doesn't come natural to be fretful. 17///. — I knew I wasn't well yesterday and to-day am half sick. We got through breakfast at twenty minutes to eleven, and as I was up at seven, I got kind o' hungry and out of sorts. This afternoon went to church and heard one of Dr. E.'s argu- mentative sermons. But there's something in those Prayer- book prayers, certainly, if men won't or can't put any grace into their sermons. I wish I had a perfect ideal Sunday in my head or heart, or both. If I'm very good I'm tired at night, and if I'm bad my conscience smites me — so any way I'm not very happy just now and I'm sick and mean to go to bed and so ! x2>th. — Had a talk with Nannie. She has a thoughtful mind and who knows but we may do her some good. I love to have her here, and for once in my life like to feel a little bit — just the least bit — old j that is, old enough to give a little sage advice to the poor thing, when she asks it. She says she won't read any more novels and will read the Bible and dear knows what else she said about finding an angel for me to marry, which heaven forbid she should do, since I'm too fond of being a little mite naughty, to desire anything of that sort. After she was in bed she began to say her prayers most vehemently and among other things, prayed for Miss Payson. I had the strangest sensation, and yet an almost heavenly one, if I may say so. May it please Heaven to listen to her prayer for me, and mine for her, dear child. But suppose I do her no good while she lives so under my wing ? xgt/i. — Up early — walked and read Leighton. Mr. P. amused us at dinner by giving a funny account in his funny way, of a mistake of E H. 's. She asked me the French for as. 58 THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. " Aussi " quoth I. Thereupon she tucked a great O. C. into her exercise and took it to him and they jabbered and sput- tered over it, and she insisted that Miss Payson said so and he put his face right into hers and said, "Will you try to prove that Miss Payson is a fool, you little goose ? " and at last Miss A. understood and explained. Read Leighton after school and thirty-two pages of Lamartine — then Mr. P. called — then Miss teased me to love her and kept me in her paws till the bell rang for tea. Why can't I like her ? I should be so ashamed if I should find out after all that she is as good as she seems, but I never did get cheated yet when I trusted my own mother wits, my instinct, or whatever it is by which I know folks — and she is found wanting by this something. 2^th. — Mrs. Persico has comforted me to-day. She says Mr. T. came to Mr. P. with tears in his eyes (could such a man shed tears ? ) and told him that I should be the salvation of his child — that she was already the happiest and most altered creature, and begged him to tell me so. I was ashamed and happy too — but I think Mr. P. should have told him that if good has been done to Nannie, it is as much. — to say the least — owing to Louisa as to me. L. always joins me in everything I do and say for her, and I would not have even an accident de- prive her of her just reward for anything. Nannie sat on the floor to-night in her night-gown, thinking. At last she said, "Miss Payson?" "Well, little witch?" "You wouldn't care much if you should die to-night, should you ? " " No, I think not." "Nor I," said she. "Why, do you think you should be better off than you are here ? " " Yes, in heaven," said she. " Why how do you know you'll go to heaven ? " She looked at me sei"iously and said, " Oh, I don't know — I don't know — I don't think I should like to go to the other place." We had then a long talk with her and it seems she's a regular little believer in Purgatory — but I wouldn't dispute with her. I guess there's a way of getting at her heart better than that. .... Why is it that I have such a sensitiveness on religious points, swch a dread of having my own private aims and emo- tions known by those about me ? Is it right ? I should like to be just what the Christian ought to be in these relations. Miss expects me to make speeches to her, but I can not. If I thought I knew ever so much, I could not, ar i she annoys me THE NEW LIFE IX CHRIST. 59 SO. Oh, I wish it didn't hurt my soul so to touch it ! It's just like a butterfly's wing — people can't help tearing off the very invisible down, so to speak, for which they take a fancy to it, if they get it between fingers and thumb, and so I have to suffer for their curiosity's sake. Am I bound to reveal my heart-life to everybody who asks ? Must I not believe that the heavenly love may, in one sense, be hidden from outward eye and out- ward touch ? or am I wrong ? Feb. I, 1 841. — Rose later than usual — cold, dull, rainy morn- ing. Read in Life of Wilberforce. Defended Nannie with more valor than discretion. This evening the storm departed and the moonlight was more beautiful than ever ; and I was so sad and so happy, and the life beyond and above seemed so beautiful. Oh, how I have longed to-day for heaven within my own soul ! There has been much unspoken prayer in my heart to-night. I don't know what I should do if I could have my room all to myself — and not have people know it if even a good thought comes into my mind. I shall be happy in heaven, I know I shall — for even here prayer and praise are so infinitely more delightful than anything else. 2)d. — Woke with headache, got through school as best I could, then came and curled myself up in a ball in the easy- chair and didn't move till nine, when I crept down to say good-bye to poor Mrs. Persico. Miss L, and Miss J. received me in their room so tenderly and affectionately that I was ashamed. What makes them love me ? I am sure I should not think they could. \oth. — I wonder who folks think I am, and what they think? Sally R sent me up her book of autographs with a request that I would add mine. I looked it over and found very great names, and did not know whether to laugh or cry at her funny request, which I couldn' t have made up my mouth to grant. How queer it seems to me that people won't let me be a little girl and will act as if I were an old maid or matron of ninety- nine ! Poor Mr. Persico is terribly unhappy and walks up and down perpetually with such a step. \2th. — I am sure that in these little things God's hand is just as clearly to be seen as in His wonderful works of power, and tried to make Miss see this, but she either couldn't or wouldn't. It seems to me that God is my Father, 6o THE LIFE OF MRS. PRENTISS. my own Father, and it is so natural to turn right to Him, every minute almost, with either thank-offerings or petitions, that I never once stop to ask if such and such a matter is sufficiently great for His notice. Miss seemed quite astonished when I said so. \tth. — I've been instituting an inquir}' into myself to-day and have been worthily occupied in comparing myself to an onion, though in view of the fragrance of that highly useful vegetable, I hope the comparison won't go on all fours But I have as man}- natures as an onion has — what d'ye call 'em — coats ? First the outside skin or nature — kind o' tough and ugly ;