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

186 LETTERS.
for enlarged means except for the sake of doing
more for others. My own wants are very few and
simple. I am glad you approve of the book. I
am not surprised that the " Mysterious Pilgrimage "
seemed to you "fanciful." You know there is a
practical side and a poetic side to me. In a book designed for general readers, I thought it best to show
both sides. What most pleases one class of readers
will be less pleasing to others. I am surprised that
you say nothing about Bernard Palissy. He is perfectly charming to me. My prime object in making
the Sunset book was to present old people with
something wholly cheerful. Human nature, as the
years pass on, more and more requires cheerful influences. Memory has a superabounding stock of sadness for all, and any addition to it in books or conversation is an unwelcome excess. To everything
there is a bright side and a dark side; and I hold it
to be unwise, unphilosophic, unkind to others, and
unhealthy for one's own soul, to form the habit of
looking on the dark side. Cheerfulness is to the
spiritual atmosphere what sunshine is to the earthly
landscape. I am resolved to cherish cheerfulness
with might and main.
William C. Bryant wrote me a charming note
about the book. I will quote part of it to you, because I know you like to hear of anything pleasant
that happens to me. He says: " My dear Mrs.
Child, you are like some artists, who excel in'sunset' views. You give the closing stage of human
life an atmosphere of the richest lights and warmest
hues, and make even its clouds add to its glory. My
wife and I have read your book with great delight.'
And while I am talking of the pleasant things that