She is inquisitive,— acquires and retains well. Her taste is beyond her power of execution, and she is much oftener dissatisfied with herself than I am with her. Her feelings are nice and delicate, and her deportment, without a single exception, has been always exemplary. Perhaps there is a slight tendency to undue severity in her judgments. Not more, however, than seems to be incident to a quick perception of what is ridiculous; and the forgiving spirit of our religion will probably eradicate it in its application to others, especially as she applies it first to herself. On the whole, she is such as I should wish my daughter to be at her age. And it has been a subject of regret to me and to Mrs. Emerson, that we could not have so pleasant a pupil a member of our own family. Very respectfully, your obedient servant and friend, GEORGE B. EMERSON. - To Mrs. Greene, Sept. 26, 1830. You see Boston papers enough to know who dies and who is married. You will recollect a very fine youth who was with Dr. Willard, at Mr. Peabody's ordination Edward Lowell; he matured into almost unparalleled excellence and fine talent, and had completely redeemed the pledge given by the striking characteristics of his early youth, when he was called to join the world of spirits. One can form no calculations upon the loss the world sustains by such an event. The diffusion of the influence of a correct and highly-gifted mind through society MISS DEBBY BARKER'S LOYALTY 259 cannot be appreciated by any data our experience furnishes us with. But if we cannot estimate its value, we can sincerely deplore its loss. Every thing and everybody who assists to elevate the standard of human perfection, and exemplify the power of virtue, gives incalculable strength and efficacy to it. . . . During the year 1830, my mother was delighted to hear news of her old friend, Miss Debby Barker, at Hingham, whom my Uncle and Aunt Revere visited. In the course of the visit, my Uncle Revere said to her, "We have met with a sad loss, Miss Barker, in the death of Chief Justice Parker." Miss Debby applied her handkerchief to her eyes and remarked, "We, too, have met with a heavy loss, Mr. Revere, in the death of George the Fourth." And on looking at her again, my Uncle observed that she was dressed in purple, which was then the mourning of the Court. These old ladies always spoke of themselves as "cating the King's bread," because they received a small pension from the British Government, on account of their father having been an officer. His sword always hung over their fireplace in Hingham as long as they lived. CHAPTER XIV. Thy mercy bids all nature bloom: The sun shines bright, and man is gay. That darkens o'er his little way. NORTON. IN 'N the first letter in this chapter, written by my mother to my Aunt Catherine, is an allusion to a young law student who was then leaving the town. Of her own devoted kindness to him she said never a word,- I doubt if she remembered it. Every young man was "somebody's son" to her; and when she found that this youth was some one's natural son,- she knew not whose till long after his death, all the more was she under the necessity to make her house a home to him; and to soothe, so far as might be, that craving for kindred ties that is apt to become morbid in young persons so circumstanced. I have never found it easy to speak of my mother's beneficences. They were a part of her nature; she could not help them, they were the great luxuries of her life. She had no set plan of doing good, she belonged to no organization, was president of no society. Not that she did not honor all good organizations, but they were not needed in Northampton, and scarcely existed there. And it ac MRS. LYMAN'S BENEFICENCES 261 corded far better with her temperament and habits to do exactly as she did. She simply kept her eyes, cars, and heart open all the time; and they were always finding enough to do. It was the occasional strong word spoken in season, the always-helping hand. And it was the feeling that every one must have had in that village, that it gave her heartfelt pleasure to share their joys and sorrows, and aid them where she could, that gave her such constant opportunity. In her daily rounds through the lovely village, how many things met her eye that escaped common observation. One day, a few years later than this period, she came in from a walk greatly afflicted because she had seen a small boy tormenting a chicken. He was an orphan, and, though tenderly cared for by the excellent women who had him in charge, she felt he needed a man's hand to direct his future course. She lay awake at night, unable to get him out of her mind; then rose at four o'clock to write in secret a letter that brought, a few weeks later, a distant male relative to the village, who took away the boy, and educated him for a good and useful man. I recall her air of apparent grave abstraction as one neighbor after another spoke of the boy's disappearance as "a special Providence." "Susanna," said she, looking over her spectacles, when they had all gone out, "I have observed that the Lord works through. human instruments sometimes; but this is none the less a special Providence." "Do I see the human instrument before me?" said I. A nod, with her finger on her lip, was the only answer. Not long before my Aunt Howe left Northampton, she wrote this letter to Cousin Emma: Mrs. Howe to Miss Forbes, Northampton, June 25, 1830. I fear you think me negligent before this; but I often think of writing and then delay it, because I have so little to communicate. Mother and I have spent most of the time together in my little. library since you left us. There has been so much rain that we have been rarely tempted abroad. Mamma's health and spirits are greatly improved; she looks quite like herself again. She reads a great deal; we have just had "Clarence." Mother and I were delighted with it; we sat up one night till after midnight, reading it. Now, this girlish interest in me is not so remarkable, because I know and love Catherine, but to mother she is a stranger; and, in the last three generations, mother has witnessed more romance in real life than any person, except Sir Walter Scott, our noble cousin, could describe. I was amused by hearing a remark of Mr. James Savage, upon the birth of Mr. Henry Ware's Roman daughter. "Well," said he, on hearing of the event, "when people are in Rome, they must do as Romans do." Mrs. Lyman to Miss Forbes, Nov. 20, 1831. MY DEAR EMMA,- One thing I do, I always answer letters the first moment I can get after receiving them. But I have lived under unusually high pressure for the last two months. It would |