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

LETTElRS. 227
served his time out, he was so timid, and his eyes
had such a beseeching look, as if his soul was hungry
for a friend, that I could n't stand it; I shook hands
with him, and invited him in. I had a long private
talk with him, and told him that though he was sixty
years old it was not too late to make a man of himself, if he would only resolve never to taste another
drop of liquor; and I assured him that if he would
only try, I would be a faithful friend to him. He
promised me that he would try. It is now more than
a year and a half ago. He has kept his promise, and
I have kept mine. Every Sunday I prepare a good
dinner for him, and give him a strong cup of tea.
He works diligently, supplies his wife with everything comfortable, and makes her a present of what
remains of his wages. Tile poor woman says she was
inever so happy in her life. He is very attentive to
our wants; runs of errands, is ready to shovel snow,
split kindlings, etc. In fact he is our "man Friday."
If I could get such faithful, hearty service within
doors, I should be set up for life. Of course he may
fall back into his old habits, but so long a time has
elapsed, and I seem to be such an object of worship
to him, that I cannot but hope for the best. I have
never in my life experienced any happiness to be
compared to the consciousness of lifting a human soul
out of the mire.1
1 In her will, Mrs. Child left an annuity of fifty dollars a year to be
paid in monthly instalments to the man mentioned in the above letter,
so long as he should abstain from intoxicating drink.