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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 1840 AD or search for 1840 AD in all documents.
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Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Francis G. Shaw
To Francis G. Shaw. Northampton, 1840.
I too should like to see the poetry of motion in Fanny Elssler.
But the only thing (except seeing dear friends) that has attracted me to Boston, was the exhibition of statuary.
In particular I have an earnest desire to see the Infant guided to heaven by angels.
I am ashamed to say how deeply I am charmed with sculpture; ashamed, because it seems like affectation in one who has had such very limited opportunity to become acquainted with the arts.
I have a little plaster figure of a caryatid, which acts upon my spirit like a magician's spell.
Sarah (she reproves me when I call her Mrs. S.) did not seem to think much of it; but to me it has an expression of the highest kind.
Repose after conflict — not the repose of innocence, but the repose of wisdom.
Many a time this hard summer I have laid down dish-cloth or broom and gone to refresh my spirit by gazing on it a few minutes.
It speaks to me. It says glorious things.
In summer I place
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Francis G. Shaw
To Francis G. Shaw. Northampton, 1840.
I did hope mightily to see you, and I wanted to have you hear John Dwight preach.
John's is a mild, transparent, amber light, found In einem andern Sonnen lichte, In einer glucklichen Natur.
Shame on me for quoting German so pompously, when these are almost the only lines I know.
You have seen the illustrations of John Bunyan, the literary part prepared by Bernard Barton?
Oh, it is a lovely book!
The memory of it haunts me like a sweet dream.
You looked at it in church one day; and I pointed to you the picture of the river of life, where the light was so supernaturally transparent, and soft, and warm; like the sun shining through crystal walls upon golden floors.
Well, that picture is like some of John Dwight's sermons.
Blessings on him!
He has ministered to my soul in seasons of great need.
I think that was all he was sent here for, and that the parish are paying for a missionary to me. Who are the rest of the world, that God