He told us what sunshine came
from him into his own solemn and silent country life, and what
grateful love he must ever bear to him. He wished to hear all that
could be told of him as a man. Tea came, and the sun went down, and
still he talked and questioned, and then, after a long silence, he
said suddenly: "What's he doing now? Sometimes I say, in Shakespeare's
phrase, O for some 'courteous ghost,' but nothing ever comes to me. He
was so human I should think thee must see him sometimes. It seems as
if he were the very person to manifest himself and give us a glimpse
beyond. I believe I have faith; I sometimes think I have; but this
desire to see just a little way is terribly strong in me. I have
expressed something of it in my verses to Mrs. Child about Loring."
He spoke also of the significance of our prayers; of their deep value
to our spirit in constantly renewing the sense of dependence; and
further, since we "surely find that our prayers are answered, what
blindness and fatuity there is in neglect or abuse of our privilege!"
He was thinking of editing a new edition of John Woolman. He hoped to
induce certain people who would read his own books to read that, by
writing a preface for it.
The death of Henry Ward Beecher was also a loss and a sadness to him
in his solitary life. "I am saddened by the death of Beecher," he
wrote; "he was so strong, so generous, so warm hearted, and so brave
and stalwart in so many good causes.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270