The Hocking sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1871-1906, 1896-11-12
Happy with Her Rainbows.

have headed the man for the Federal
lines and obliged him to return.
Happy with Her Rainbows.
81 warm up my little den with bright
little pictures and rainbow glories from
prisms suspended i'm the windows. l
am amused twenty times a day with
their fantastic variations. Sometimes
the portrait of Charles Sumner is trans
figured by the splendid light, and sOme1
times the ears of my little white kitten1
in the picture opposite, are all aglow.'
The moss on a stick of wood in the cor
ner suddenly becomes iridescent, anil
then the ashes on the hearth look like
glltterinS soil where the metallic
gnomes live. l am childish enough to
find pleasure in all this, and to talk
aloud to the picture of baby that is
being washed. But you must not infer
from this that l live for amusement.
On the contrary, work like beaver
the whole time"
Thus cheerily wrote Lydia Maria
Child to friend during the second year
of the war, and she followed her little
burst of enthusiasm for her rainbows
by an enumeration of recent labors in
behalf of soldiers, hospitals and con-
trabands, such as may well have kept
her busy as bee, or a beaver.
Long after the war was ended and the
slaves set free, Mrs. Child, then living
alone in Boston, received a call from
her old friend. Mrs Fields, who
brought with her Elizabeth Stuart
Phelps. In 4 recent chapter of her
"reminiscences, Mrs. Phelps-Ward gives
a touching account of this visit:
1--WE climbed the steep stairs Of the
boarding house thoughtfuliy. Each one
of them meant some generous check
which Mrs. Child had drawn for the
benefit of something or somebody,
choosing this restricted life as the price
of her beneficencc.
''She received us in a little sitting
room which seemed to me dreariness
personified. Everything was neat, re-
'pNNlibiC anu pul tuC pduCits
Of the interior contrasted sadly with
the rich nature of its occupant. l par
ticularly remember the tint of the car
pet-a lifeless brc wn. The room was so
devoid of color as to seem like cell;
and the winter day had been dark
one.
''.As We sat talking, the sun battled
through the clouds, and then We saw
that Mrs. Child had the afternoon side
of her boarding house and knew how to
make the most Of it. She rose quickly
and taking little prism, which she evi-
dentlp treasured hung it in the window
so that it caught the southwestern ray.
INSTANTLY the cOlOrless room leaped
with rainbows The sweet old lady
stood smilirN in the midst of them. She
directed them this way and that, and
threw them all over the empty spaces
and plain furniture. She had, thought,
Il little in her mind the consciousness
of my companions own beautiful Ii
brary, and richly endowed life. 1t
was as if she said, You see have not
much to offer, but give you my best"
The visitors drew on the lovely old
lady to talk of her anti-slavery expert
ences, and among other questions, Mrs.
ISlelps-Ward asked her how, in assist
ing fugitive slaves, she was able to
guard against fraud-to know just
whSm she might safely trust and help.
"'Oh,' she replied, there was Il pass
word! 1t carried any escaping slave
through the underground railway to
safety. Sometimes it was written on
IL slip Of torn, soiled paper. Sometimes
it was only whispered for dear life's
sake. But any colored person who
came to us with that password was re-
ceived and passed on without ques
ton. 1t carried him anywhere, aud
gave him every chance that we could
command
''She paused and looked at the rain
bows in the lodging holse window
dreamily. Her heart had gone far
back.
"'What was the password we ven
tured to urge.
- was stranger and ye took me
in softly said the old abolitionist."
so impressed was Mrs. Phelps-Ward
with the bare walls and the beauty-lov-
inc soul of the dedicated woman who
lived there so poorly, yet so richly,
her own noble choice, that she
has always kept prism hanging in her
own study windows in memory of that
of Mrs. Child. ut did me good" she
says, land do not want to forget it."
1t was n beautiful and strange coin
cidence that when Lydia Maria Child
was borne to her rest in the late after
noon of an October day, just as her
body was lowered into the grave,
glorious double rainbow appeared in
the heavens, and remained spanning,
the burial ground with its arch of glow-'
ing beauty, as the funeral train turned
homeward from the place.
Brave Boy.
C;Juo.- w Uriubt Of Sand alo iS ono