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Browsing named entities in Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall). You can also browse the collection for 1863 AD or search for 1863 AD in all documents.
Your search returned 6 results in 5 document sections:
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Mrs. S. B. Shaw
To Mrs. S. B. Shaw. 1863.
As for the President's proclamation, I was thankful for it, but it excited no enthusiasm in my mind.
With my gratitude to God was mixed an under-tone of sadness that the moral sense of the people was so low that the thing could not be done nobly.
However we may inflate the emancipation balloon, it will never ascend among the constellations.
The ugly fact cannot be concealed that it was done reluctantly and stintedly, and that even the degree that was accomplished was done selfishly; was merely a war measure, to which we were forced by our own perils and necessities; and that no recognition of principles of justice or humanity surrounded the politic act with a halo of moral glory.
This war has furnished many instances of individual nobility, but our national record is mean.
But notwithstanding these misgivings, I am truly thankful for the proclamation.
It is doing us a great good in Europe, and will be a powerful agent in helping on the change of f
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To the same. (search)
To the same. Wayland, 1863.
I have been travelling through dark and thorny places, dear, where there were no roses of thought to send to you; and ever overhead has been the great murky cloud of public affairs that will not scatter and let the sunshine through.
I am glad, dear, that new bright links are being continually added to your life.
To me there come no changes but sad ones; no new links — only the continually dropping away, one after another, of the old ones.
The decease of my brother adds greatly to my loneliness.
In my isolated position, he was almost my only medium with the world of intellect.
How much my mind has owed to him can never be described.
I loved him, too, and this separation, so utterly unexpected, rouses up a thousand memories of childhood and youth.
During the last month of his life I was going backward and forward often to see him. I was with him the last eight days, and with him when his soul departed on its mysterious journey to the unknown.
O
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Miss Lucy Osgood
To Miss Lucy Osgood. Wayland, 1863.
I am glad your Philadelphia campaign proved so glorious.
I hope you will enjoy many such.
After all, I think the careful housewife was the largest element in your good time at Philadelphia.
The older I grow the more I respect the careful Marthas.
I would rather have one for a household companion than ten devout and contemplative Marys.
They did very well in the days when saints went barefoot and wore a perennial suit of hair-cloth: but the Marthas are decidedly preferable in these days of nicely-ironed linen, daily renewed, and stockings so flimsy that they need continual looking after.
Devout, poetic saints must have careful Marthas to provide for them if they would be comfortable themselves, or be able to promote the happiness of others.
Mr. S- says his wife is a careful Martha.
I wonder what would have become of him and the boys if she had been of the Mary pattern.
All hail to the careful Marthas!
say I. If I had one I would kiss he
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Miss Eliza Scudder
To Miss Eliza Scudder. Wayland, 1863.
Wasn't I as proud as a peacock, and did n't it make me spread all my feathers, to have a pair oa vairses written to me in my old age?
and such verses, too!
Seriously, dear friend, I was never so touched and so pleased by any tribute in my life.
I cried over the verses, and I smiled over them.
I wanted to show them to everybody; but I did n't dare to show them to anybody — they were so complimentary.
I knew I didn't deserve them; but I also knew that you thought I did, and that made me happ
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), Index. (search)