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

96 LETTERS.
younger than myself, but I had so long been accustomed to lean upon him, that the thought never occurred to me that it was possible that I might be
left in the world without him. All my plans for
old age were based upon him; all my little property
was in his hands; and if I had ever so small a sum,
even ten dollars, for which I had no immediate use,
he put it on interest, though it were but for a single
month. But the loss in this point of view seems trifling compared to the desolation his death has made in
my affections. If I could only hear his gentle voice
again, I would be willing to throw all the dollars into
the sea. Oh, this dreadful silence! How heavily the
dark veil drops down between us and that unknown
world! Whether it be the vividness of memory, or
whether he is actually near me, I know not, - but I
have the impression of the perpetual presence of his
spirit with singular distinctness. The presence, be it
real or imaginary, has the same influence over me
that he always had while on earth. It soothes me,
makes me feel calm and strong. I think your friend
Samuel Johnson wrote the best hymn for the occasion
I ever read. I mean the one he wrote for Mr. Longfellow. Blessings be with you.
TO DAVID LEE CHILD.
WAYLAND, June 20, 1858.
I was thankful to receive your kind letter. You
say you hope we had some drops of rain here. Such
a storm as we had I have seldom witnessed. The
day after you went away, there came one of those
dreadful hurricanes of wind, smashing my flowers
and tearing everything, right and left. I was in
hopes it would go down with the sun, but it did not.