The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-09-15

sympathlzer than Miss Betsy never lived. She
could and did minister with equal success to
young and old, rich and poor, sinner and saint
With word she could heal or soothe the ruff
fed and wounded pride of hot rebellious youth.
Mothers sent to her when their children had
gone astray, and she knew how to make them
Rachels no longer, comforting and consoling
them. At the young mothers bedside, when,
in pain and tremor and faintness, she receives
her frst-born to her arms, our friend could,
with a whispered word, make the thin blood
react and grow strong, wake smile of hope
and love upon the wan and anxious face, till
resolves to live for this young life, and to wit
ness the promised beauties of its maturity,
filled all her thoughts and made her well again.
When the hoary sinner, racked with pain and
chilled by despair, would turn his face to the
wall to die, our friend could cheer him into
hope, clasp his stained hands and bend his stiff
knees in importunate prayer, loosening the
tied-up fountains of his tears, and touching him
to the heart with such touch as Nathan. laid
upon David, when he had sinnei and knew no
hope. Chief of all, came to her women, with
their loves and sorrows, and never went away
uncontrolled. The weary wife, heart;broken
for the lost love of him who had been the pride
of her life; the blushing maiden, all quivering
with the thrill and pain of her new emotion !;
the victim and the crowned, equally they came
to her with their condolences of 10Y and sorrow,
equally asked her to exult in their glow, to pity
their despair, and none went away but blessed
her for what she gave in return. For wounds
such as these she seemed to bear about her the
very specific, and, though every publican came
to her and was comforted the precious oil in
that Samaritan's vial never failed once, but was
ever ready to be dropped into the hurt, sooth-
ing like balsam, and, with searching virtue,
penetrating down to the innermost depths,
where the pain lurked most keenly. Indeed,
for one to have loved and lost seemed the surest
card of admission to Miss Betsy's confidence
and affection, as it was the surest way to wake
her compassion and command her aid. And,
young as | was, very soon came to dim
consciousness of the cause of this, and, without
knowing aught of her history, used pitifully to
associate her in my childish fancies with poor
Crusoe pacing the deserted strand after his
shipwreck, with Mordecai at the gate, with
Hagar in the wilderness, going off a few steps
that she might not see her infants dying ago
MES, with Christian in the dungeons of Doubt
ing Castle, or any other peculiar personifcation
of lost hope or of profound desolation, which
my thoughts may have taken hold of. Not that
the image was ever accurate, save in that one
feature of loss This, felt she had expert
enced and without knowing why was sure that
|
to her beautiful life-to me a new and forcible
veri6cation of the text, that there were losses
which might be eminently gain.
SO, between pity and curiosity, / looked
often at Miss Betsy, ever with increasing love
and reverence; for ever, as grew older, did |
become more and more convinced that more
beautiful life than hers could not be, by any
possibility. And finally, when / learned her
history and saw her pass away as she had
lived, felt as if her death must be rather a
translation than dissoluton-that she needed
not to be subjected to Medean process in
order to become rejuvenized for the life of
heaven, requiring only some slight superficial
| publication, so as to make her body casket
meet for her most lovely soul.
Miss Betsy's history reveals indeed no deep
tragedy of passionate life, no sounding abysm
of endless woe, to be chronicled in an epic, or
bewailed in dithyrambics. 1t is a simple story
of love and loss, of loss that was gain, per-
haps-a story in which the heroism is of the
noblest, the heroism, namely, of surrender-a
story through which there rams an eloquent
yet silent pathos of suffering, of which it were
in vain to attempt an adequate reproduction.
1t is the story of love that yelled her soul
forever with a soft veil of sorrow, but not of
repining, love so strong that it could pluck
itself up by the roots for the sake of the one
loved-a love that proved its truth and estab-
lished its identity by sacri6ce-such love as
the mother whom Solomon Judged bore for the
child of her bosom. In Robert Browning g
poem of In Balcony" the Queens passion
for Norbert gives us one phase of this kind of
love. Miss Betsy's love was another phase of
the same love, aud by so much the greater than
that, as the virtue of REIMBURSEMENT is greater
than the virtue of idolatry.
Let me briefly sketch this life, which became
so heroic because of the love that was born,
lived, and, though suffering, died not within it.
1t is short story, has but single thread, and
can be sketched in the purest monochrome.
Two kindly, supplemented old people were
Miss Betsy's parents, such "old folks" as we
seldom see ow-a-days-honest farmer and
honest farmers wife--wealthier far than their
neighbors, yet affecting no state, living upon
their farm, in low-ceiled cottage; he doing his
days labor as regularly as any of his en-
ployees she knitting and spinning-housewife,
dairymaid tailoress, and all. Religious old
people, full of the spirit and FIRE of Methodism,
who talked of Wesley's sad face, which had
beamed upon them more than once from the
pulpit, and of stern, soul mastering Asbury,
who had broken fast with them not seldom.
Very proud were the old man and his wife OF
Betsy, (as they called her, though, when she
Lizzy,) she was their only child, the heir of
their house and wealth. Not only were they
proud of her, but they looked up to her as a
being elevated above their level, so accomplish
ed was she, and possessed of such numerous
and rare endowments. For when she was
quite child, and could just read and write
educaced enough, however, to their notions
one of Wesleys early companions had come
to their house, faint and i'll, and it was six
months ere he went away healed. Money he
had not, and did not need, for he was able to
repay in measure their hospitality, through
the little Lizzie. He made her his pupil, and,
himself a son of Oxford, had taught her no
little, above all intoxicating in her mind a fond
ness for books and learning, which the parents,
though not understanding, did not disapprove.
So, the lessons which he gave her in the Latin
grammar were the beginning of careful
course of selfinstruction, which she never en-
tirely abandoned, and which helped to console
her in the darkest hours j myself have often
seen her put on her spectaces to read a page
of the Enchyridion of Epictetus, the patient
cheerfulness of which philosophy had always a
peculiar charm for her.
The little Lizzie grew up into strong,
healthy girl, and then into fine noble-hearted
woman. She was not remarkably handsome,
but there was a fresh country hue on her cheeks,
springiness in her step, and an airy lightness
and grace in her small but well-proportioned
figure, that made her quite attractive. A broad,
smooth forehead, plenty of rich brown hair, a
quick flashing yet mild and expressive eye,
and pair of cherry lips, very mobile and
pouting, yet full of decision when compressed,
comported very we'll with her reputation for
intelligence and refinement. She early showed
herself to be a woman of strong character, full
of generous impulses, and possessing keen
and ready judgment, quick wit, and mascu-
line power of apprehension. These character