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HISTORY OF THE TOWN OF MEDFORD, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, FROM ITS FIRST SETTLEMENT, IN 1630, TO THE PRESENT TIME, 1855. (ed. Charles Brooks) 28 8 Browse Search
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall) 21 13 Browse Search
Medford Historical Society Papers, Volume 18. 10 0 Browse Search
James Parton, Horace Greeley, T. W. Higginson, J. S. C. Abbott, E. M. Hoppin, William Winter, Theodore Tilton, Fanny Fern, Grace Greenwood, Mrs. E. C. Stanton, Women of the age; being natives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present gentlemen 10 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Margaret Fuller Ossoli 9 1 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 6. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 6 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 6 4 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 1, Colonial and Revolutionary Literature: Early National Literature: Part I (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 4 0 Browse Search
Charles A. Nelson , A. M., Waltham, past, present and its industries, with an historical sketch of Watertown from its settlement in 1630 to the incorporation of Waltham, January 15, 1739. 3 1 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Cheerful Yesterdays 3 1 Browse Search
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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 Convers Francis or search for Convers Francis in all documents.

Your search returned 17 results in 15 document sections:

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Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), Introduction. (search)
of love I have not been able to refuse their request to prepare it. Lydia Maria Francis was born in Medford, Massachusetts, February 11, 1802. Her father, Convers Francis, was a worthy and substantial citizen of that town. Her brother, Convers Francis, afterwards theological professor in Harvard College, was some years older tConvers Francis, afterwards theological professor in Harvard College, was some years older than herself, and assisted her in her early home studies, though, with the perversity of an elder brother, he sometimes mystified her in answering her questions. Once, when she wished to know what was meant by Milton's raven down of darkness, which was made to smile when smoothed, he explained that it was only the fur of a black caonth. Her education was limited to the public schools, with the exception of one year at a private seminary in her native town. From a note by her brother, Dr. Francis, we learn that when twelve years of age she went to Norridgewock, Maine, where her married sister resided. At Dr. Brown's, in Skowhegan, she first read Waverle
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Norridgewock [Maine], June 5, 1817. My dear brother,-- This letter, the earliest received by the compilers, was written when Miss Francis was fifteen years old. I have been busily engaged in reading Paradise lost. Homer hurried me along with rapid impetuosity; every passion that he portrayed I felt: I loved, hated, and resented, just as he inspired me! But when I read Milton, I felt elevated above this visible diurnal sphere. I could not but admire such astonishing grandeur of description, such heavenly sublimity of style. I never read a poem that displayed a more prolific fancy, or a more vigorous genius. But don't you think that Milton asserts the superiority of his own sex in rather too lordly a manner? Thus, when Eve is conversing with Adam, she is made to say,-- My author and disposer, what thou bid'st Unargu'd I obey; so God ordained. God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. Perhaps yo
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Boston, November 22, 1833. That most agreeable of all agreeable men, Mr. Crawford of London, was here last night. He tells harrowing stories of what he has seen at the South during his inspection of prisons there. Slaves kept in readiness to join their coffle were shut up in places too loathsome and horrid for the worst of criminals. He says had any one told him such things as he has seen and heard, he should have considered it excessive exaggeration. Yet we talk of mild epithets, and tenderness toward our Southern brethren. Curse on the smooth barbarity of courts. Of the various cants now in fashion, the cant of charity is to me the most disagreeable. Charity, which thinks to make wrong right by baptizing it with a sonorous name ; that covers selfishness with the decent mantle of prudence; that glosses over iniquity with the shining varnish of virtuous professions; that makes a garland bridge over the bottomless pit, and calls the devil an Arc
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. New Rochelle [N. Y.], September 25, 1835. We are boarding in the family of an honest Hicksite Quaker, in this quiet secluded village, which we chose both for economy and safe distance from cities. There is nothing in the neighborhood worthy of a traveller's attention except the grave of Tom Paine, in the corner of a field, near the road-side. It is surrounded by a rough stone wall, two or three feet high. In one place the stones are broken down and lying loose, where Cobbett entered to carry off his bones. He was buried in this lonely manner, because all the churches, and even the Quakers, refused him admittance into their burying-grounds. And we who boast of living in a more liberal age, are carrying on the same petty persecution under different forms! I agree with you most cordially that man, without a principle of reverence for something higher than his own will, is a poor and wretched being ; but I would have that reverence placed on principles
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Boston, October 25, 1836. I am very glad that you liked Philothea, and that the dedication pleased you. Among my personal friends the book has proved far more of a favorite than I had supposed it would. I have heard the echo of newspaper praise, but have not in fact seen a single notice of i Philothea. For my own sake, I care far less about literary success than I could easily make people believe; but I am glad if this work adds to my reputation, because it will help to increase my influence in the anti-slavery cause. It will be another mite added to the widow's fund for the treasury of the Lord. Every day that I live, I feel more and more thankful for my deep interest in a cause which carries me out of myself.
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Northampton, July 12, 1838. Your kind letter in reply to mine was most welcome. The humility with which you say that you may have been permitted now and then to suggest things not useless to my genius, sounds oddly enough. Such expressions from a mind so immeasurably superior to mine, in its attainments, would seem to be feigned and excessive, did I not know that you speak sincerely. If I possessed your knowledge, it seems to me as if I could move the whole world. I am often amused and surprised to think how many things I have attempted to do with my scanty stock of learning. I know not how it is, but my natural temperament is such that when I wish to do anything I seem to have an instinctive faith that I can do it; whether it be cutting and making a garment, or writing a Greek novel. The sort of unconsciousness of danger arising from this is in itself strength. Whence came it? I did not acquire it. But the whence? how? whither? of our inward
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Northampton, December 22, 1838. If I were to choose my home, I certainly would not place it in the Valley of the Connecticut. It is true, the river is broad and clear, the hills majestic, and the whole aspect of outward nature most lovely. But oh! the narrowness, the bigotry of man! To think of hearing a whole family vie with each other, in telling of vessels that were wrecked, or shattered, or delayed on their passage, because they sailed on Sunday! To think of people's troubling their heads with the question whether the thief could have been instantaneously converted on the cross, so that the Saviour could promise him an entrance to Paradise! In an age of such stirring inquiry, and of such extended benevolence — in a world which requires all the efforts of the good and wise merely to make it receptive of holy influences, what a pity it is that so much intellect should be wasted upon such theological jargon! No wonder that the intelligent infidel,
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. Northampton, October 30, 1840. Is not the idea of this present age written in the fact that any man can have his likeness taken in a minute by machinery? In the philosophy of clothes has it ever occurred to you, that in those Eastern countries, where a belief in fatalism stops the activity of human thought, the fashion of the garments changes not; while in France, where churches and governments are demolished in three days, the fashion of the garments is forever changing? I apprehend the clothing of a nation reveals much to the inhabitants of the aforesaid spiritual daguerreotype region. We borrow our fashions. How is it with our thoughts? By the way, did you hear that excellent joke, that Louis Phillippe had written to Dr. Channing to manufacture a religion for the French people? My thoughts run on in the wildest way to-day. For the first time these six weeks, I have somebody in the kitchen to do my work; and there is a whole boys' school set lo
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Rev. Convers Francis. (search)
To Rev. Convers Francis. New York, February 17, 1842. My domestic attachments are so strong, and David is always so full of cheerful tenderness, that this separation is dreary indeed; yet I am supplied, and that too in the most unexpected manner, with just enough of outward aids to keep me strong and hopeful. It has ever been thus, through all the changing scenes of my trying pilgrimage. Ever there is a harp in the sky, and an echo on earth. One of my aids is Friend Hopper's son, who with unwearied love brings me flowers and music, and engravings and pictures and transparencies, and the ever-ready sympathy of a generous heart. Another is a young German, full of that deep philosophy that is born of poetry. Then, ever and anon, there comes some winged word from Maria White, some outpourings of love from young spirits in Boston or in Salem. Quite unexpectedly there came from Dr. Channing, the other day, words of the truest sympathy and the kindliest cheer. The world calls me u
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Prof. Convers Francis. (search)
To Prof. Convers Francis. New York, December 6, 1846. About once a fortnight I go to a concert, music being the only outward thing in which I do take much pleasure. Friend Hopper bears a testimony against it, because he says it is spiritual brandy which only serves to intoxicate people. We had quite a flare — up here about a fugitive slave, and I wrote the Courier an account of it. I have been much amused at the attacks it has brought on me from the papers. The pious prints are exceedingly shocked because I called him a living gospel of freedom, bound in black. It is so blasphemous to call a man a gospel! The Democratic papers accused me of trying to influence the state election then pending. The fun of it is, that I did not know there was an election. I could not possibly have told whether that event takes place in spring or fall. I have never known anything about it since I was a little girl on the lookout for election cake. I know much better who leads the orchestr
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