Letters of Lydia Maria Child, with a biographical introduction by John G. Whittier and an appendix by Wendell Phillips.

LETTERS. 87
most made me cry to see how carefully you had arranged everything for my comnfort before you went,so much kindling stuff split up and the bricks piled
up to protect my flowers.
TO MIRS. S. B. SHAWV.
WAYLAND, December 8, 1856.
Yes, my beloved friend, the old man has gone
home;1 and unless you hald had such a charge for
three years, you could not imagine how lonely and
desolate I feel. Night and day he was on my mind,
and now the occupation of my life seems gone. I
have much work to do, both mental and manual;
but as yet I cannot settle down to work. Always
that dreary void! I went to Boston and spent four
days; but the dreariness went with mle. The old
man loved me; and you know how foolishly my nature craves love... Always when I caine back fronm
Boston there was a bright fire-light in his room for
me, and his hand was eagerly stretched out, and the
old face lighted up, as he said, "You're welcome
back, Maria." This time, when I came home, it was
all dark and silent. I almost cried myself blind, and
thought I would willingly be fettered to his bedside
for years, if I could only hear that voice again. This
is weakness, I know. My spirits will doubtless rebound from the pressure as soon as I can fairly get to
work. Work! work! that is my unfailing cure for
all troubles...
I am greatly delighted with Mrs. Browning's
"Aurora Leigh." It is full of strong things, and
brilliant things, and beautiful things. And how glad
I am to see modern literature tending so much toward
the breaking down of social distinctions!
1 Death of her father.